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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031274">Claire the Courageous, Part I</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Claire The Courageous [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AAARRGGH is Steve's wingman, Also Claire is such a punk, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Artist Steve Palchuk, Asexual Character, Asexual Claire Nuñez (Tales if Arcadia), Bisexual Steve Palchuck, Changeling Jim Lake Jr, Claire is angry, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Violence, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gay Eli Pepperjack, Homophobic Language, I love show!Claire, Jim Lake Jr. Is Not the Trollhunter, Jim Lake Jr. Needs a Hug (Tales of Arcadia), Multi, Nomura is Jim's violent wine aunt, Not Beta Read, Plants, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve's dad - Freeform, Troll Jim Lake Jr., Trollhunter Claire Nuñez, Wizard Steve Palchuk, YER A WIZARD STEVE!, also I swear Toby will become a main character, but we were robbed of her punk style, i know in the show she's quite calm but cmon this girl has so much stress!, only in flashbacks tho, probably not until part 2 tho sorry, we all know he's a disaster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:35:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>89,322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031274</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Claire was the one who was picked to become the Trollhunter? What if Steve came along for the ride with her instead of Toby? </p><p>Claire Nunez has a normal, albeit stressful life, until she takes a little detour on the way to school and is given the mantle of a lifetime - in the form of a familiar ticking silver amulet, glowing softly with blue light. The world of trolls and magic is new and exciting at first, but with only her frenemy-of-sorts Steve to watch her back, who knows when danger will next strike? </p><p>The changelings are coming to close in on her, infiltrating her hometown of Arcadia - And there's something strangely weird going on with her acting partner, Jim.</p><p>(OR, to summarise, a punk Claire is the new Trollhunter, Steve draws in his free time and is unknowingly a wizard, and Jim is a very stressed out half-changeling.)</p><p>ON HIATUS for a little while :-)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aaarrrgghh/Blinkous "Blinky" Galadrigal, Barbara Lake/Nomura, Blinkous "Blinky" Galadrigal &amp; Claire Nuñez, Blinkous "Blinky" Galadrigal &amp; Jim Lake Jr., Claire Nuñez &amp; Steve Palchuk, Jim Lake Jr. &amp; Nomura (Tales of Arcadia), Jim Lake Jr. &amp; Walter Strickler | Stricklander, Jim Lake Jr./Claire Nuñez, Steve Palchuk &amp; Aaarrrgghh, Steve Palchuk/Eli Pepperjack</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Claire The Courageous [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907092</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>148</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>301</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Becoming the Trollhunter, Part One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(Hello, so just as a quick little reminder, up until the point of Kanjigar's death, everything is the same as in canon.)</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, so up to Kanjigars death, everything is the same, except for plot purposes it is starting very early spring, instead of later like in the show. This is because i need the evenings to be darker sooner.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a nice day, to begin with. The blue sky was clear of clouds, allowing the sun to spread golden warmth over the citizens of Arcadia. Birds tweeted and chirped from where they perched in trees that swayed gracefully in the light breeze, calmly dancing. It seemed, that all was right in the world.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a calm day within the Nuñez household.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claire, you are late, Young Lady!” Ophelia Nuñez shouted up the stairs, barely louder than the shrieking blonde baby in her arms, his chubby and stout arms beating about like a gorilla. Above their heads, a stomping teenager could be heard on the wooden floorboards. She shouted something incomprehensible over the noise of her younger brother.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ophelia sighed and shook her head, walking to the kitchen whilst fluidly sidestepping the obstacles scattered about the wooden floor such as baby toys and haphazardly placed shoes. The counter was not much better, sporting a mush of unrecognizable foods splattered on the granite like a bad piece of modern art that someone tried really hard at but inevitably failed. Ophelia did not remotely want to even </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what the green sloppy blobs used to be, deciding to clean them up later. She expertly took a lunch bag out of the fridge with her youngest still in her arms, just in time to hear the pitter-patter of feet raining down the stairs in clunky boots. Her teenage daughter ran through the doorway, one of her laces untied and an open backpack only looped over one arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah! Yes I know, I’m late - but don’t worry I’ll get to school as soon-” Claire swiped the bag from her mother and stuffed it into her backpack “-Soon as possible, okay mom?” Standing up to the tips of her toes, she placed a peck on her mother’s cheek and then ran out through the front door, shutting it behind her before her mom could say anything else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like a lithe deer, she leaped onto her purple bicycle, clipping the black helmet in place as she cycled away down the street. Her large tyres bounced precariously off of potholes and loose rocks, swiftly sliding through puddles as she took a shortcut through the woods, hoping to make it to the canals. The sun warmed her back, making her sweat the longer she went, but the wind refreshed her like a splash of water in her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire was not an ordinary girl - which is a very important detail in this story. She had blue streaks in her otherwise dark brunette hair, neon pink hair clips tying away the stray curly hairs, but not in a sweet girly style, more in a</span>
  <em>
    <span> I-wear-little-kids-accesories-and-still-look-punk </span>
  </em>
  <span>style. Flicking away from her eyes were bold strokes of black eyeliner, following the strokes of purple warpaint over her eyelids, matching nicely with the dark pink lipstick she kept hidden away in her pocket for emergencies. A short navy blue miniskirt was layered on top of black tights, paired with a loose pink vest decorated by a screaming skull. Her black blazer lapels were so decorated with pins that one would think they weighed her down, especially with her thin and wiry build.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yet, even with her punkish attitude and rebellious mindset, Miss Nuñez was a very respectable girl, grades at the top of her class and a record so clean it would put the mopped floors of Buckingham palace to shame.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A crazy grin spread over her delicate features as she rocketed down the slope of the canals, the two wheels coming to a halting stop right next to an ominous pile of rocks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Odd’</span>
  </em>
  <span> She thought to herself </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I could’ve sworn they weren’t there yesterday’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Out of breath from the exertion, she decided to take a little rest in the shade of the bridge, running a hand over her face and groaning. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ay</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’m going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>so sweaty</span>
  </em>
  <span> when I eventually get to school…” Claire muttered under her breath, oblivious to the blue glow emanating from a crack between the grey rocks. That is, until the deep, rumbling voice of a man seemed to come out of nowhere.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>...Claire Nuñez...</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AAhh!” She almost fell off her bike, large brown eyes scanning the area swiftly. “Who’s there?” Even under the shadows of the bridge, nothing moved around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>...Claire Nuñez… </em>
  </b>
  <span>Someone said again, wearily as if they were buried beneath the stone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her breathing increasing, she dismounted from the bike and stepped closer to where the voice seemed to speak from the lazuli glow. With a thin hand the teenager pulled back a heavy rock, revealing an intricate steampunk circle of cogs atop a pinky-blue stone. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>An Amulet?’</span>
  </em>
  <span> She wondered to herself, thinking it was very intriguing and pretty. A silver clock hand ticked and swept across the blue sea of its background. Not wanting to make herself any later, she swept her eyes around the area incase it was some sort of prank - no one else was with her in the empty canal - and clambered back atop her bike.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The school bell rang from the distance, and with a good amount of cursing she yanked the silvery jewel from the ground and stuffed it in her bag, cycling away as fast as she could.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t spotted the six glowing eyes watching her suspiciously from behind grated bars of the sewers.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>                                  ----------</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Claire completely forgot to lock her bike to the rack, letting it clatter to the ground before she sprinted in the direction of Spanish class, the courtyard and halls empty of students. Bursting into the room, the door shuddered on its hinges as she stepped forward, panting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uhl narrowed his eyes and watched her with contempt. “Miss Nuñez, care to explain why you are so late?” Señor Uhl glared at her, tapping his watch. “Hmmm?” The whole class stared at her as if she was the most exciting thing to happen (Which, knowing Uhl’s lesson structure, it probably was.) She felt as though all the eyes in the world were watching her, when in reality it was just a handful of tortured Español students.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Head bowed low, she made her way to her desk at the back of the classroom, dumping her bag on the floor softly. “Sorry.” She whispered as she walked past the Austrian man, decidedly not making eye contact. He grunted in disappointment before continuing on with the lesson.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once Uhl was back to staring lovingly at the chalky scribbles of spanish verbs, Claire’s friend Darci spun her head around and spoke quietly in her high pitched voice.“Claire, where have you been?” She sounded worried, knowing that it wasn’t like her friend to show up late to anything due to her mom’s constant perfectionism and a strict schedule.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re like twenty minutes late - what’s up with you?” Mary chimed in, sitting on the other side of their punkish friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighed and started writing the date in her notebook.“Well...Enrique kept me up like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>all night</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so I kinda slept over my alarm.” She chuckled nervously, scratching the back of her neck. She loved her baby brother more than the world, but would it really be so hard for him to actually sleep through the night for once?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aaaaw, Claire-Bear, don’t worry - he’ll stop in a while. And besides, if it ever gets too much, you can just pop over to mine for a little sleepover!” Mary herself had a little sister, but given by how often Claire saw them shout at each other she doubted their relationship was too good. But still, it was nice to have a friend who had been in the same boat. Some girl time would be nice, she supposed, provided that she had any time left once play rehearsals started.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ohhh, yeah, it would be really nice to get away from all that noise - I swear, I’m one more night from either chucking him out the window or straight up moving out!” She joked, smiling at her friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She almost told them about the strange glowy amulet now situated in the pocket of her backpack, but thought they wouldn’t believe her. After all, it was probably just some stupid prank, and yet she still found herself with her phone under the desk, searching up </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘silver glowing amulet’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>online. All that came up were baby plushes, so at least she now had an idea of what to get Enrique for his birthday, but left her with no clues to the strange ticking circle in her bag.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darci leant over from her desk, stretching out her neck in an attempt to see what her friend was doing on her phone in the middle of a class. (A class with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Uhl the Unforgiving,</span>
  </em>
  <span> too)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Texting a bo</span>
  </em>
  <span>- Wait, why are you looking up baby toys? Did Enrique lose Suzy Snooze again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Claire looked back down at her screen, fumbling with her phone a bit. “No, I just thought I’d look for something to get him - it’s his first birthday soon, and my whole family’s coming over so I gotta get him something good or they’ll think I’m a bad older sister.” She rambled out, like she had something to hide.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darci Raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Isn’t his birthday, like, two months away?” Before Claire could answer, Mary butted in, giggling loudly. “I think maybe she was texting</span>
  <em>
    <span> Romeo</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get ready for her </span>
  <em>
    <span>plaa-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Uhl’s loud, monstrous roar shook the classroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“SILENCE!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>                                        ------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claire reached on the corkboard, attempting to use her thumb to push a pin into the rock-hard surface. These posters were not gonna put themselves up, and she was</span>
  <em>
    <span>  not </span>
  </em>
  <span>having a redo of last year’s play with a cast of seven and an awkward on-stage kiss with Eli. She was turning round to shove some leftover posters into her bag, her shoulder bustled by a student in the busy hallway. The red illustrated papers scattered in all directions on the linoleum floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A skinny guy in a blue jumper looked shocked and panicked, already bending down to pick up the loose posters. His friend, another kid in a golden shirt and red sweater vest also bent down to pick up a few, shuffling them in his small hands. James-Jim, was it? Looked vaguely alarmed as he stood back up with a few of the posters in his hands, looking at Claire with wide eyes as if he’d expected to see someone else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claire!” He seemed to straighten up, face going a bright red. “I-I am so sorry, I-Oh! Crap…” As he tried to apologize, a textbook fell from his arms, replaced by a stack of paper advertising Shakespeare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, no, it’s okay, lemme help you there.” She picked up the textbook, exchanging it for her posters with him, smiling as they met eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wow. His </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyes.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They were the most vibrant blue she’d ever seen, like someone had carved lapis lazuli rocks into perfect little irises embedded into his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh th-thanks, uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>gracias</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Claire,” He stuttered out, a faint blush spreading across his pale skin. She thought his attempt at Spanish was odd, even with his terrible accent, but a little endearing nonetheless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing, Jim, right?” She hoped it was his name,but she only had a few classes with him, and they’d never really spoken to one another.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s me, plain ol’ Jimbo…” He finger gunned at her, laughing awkwardly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His friend Toby facepalmed behind his back, causing Claire to giggle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, Jim, We’re having a little trouble getting boys to audition for the play - Do you like Shakespeare? I promise it’s not too scary, but it might be your kinda thing,” Claire tucked a few stray hairs behind her pierced ear, blushing slightly. The guy might be a nervous wreck, but he was still cute nervous wreck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, I, yeah, yeah I’ll come.” He slotted the textbook into his satchel, walking away with his snickering friend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See you then! Hope you break a leg!” She called out to him over the loud shrieks of other teenagers, hoping he heard, before he shouted back in a slightly panicked voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks! Wait, why would I-” Claire turned around, rolling her eyes good naturedly, assuming that his voice had drifted off once he recognised the saying. But as she was walking away, he saw something glowing peeking from the pocket of her bag, hidden once again when she went round the corner and his shorter friend pulled him away to his next lesson.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>                                                                    ---------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire was so tired, she felt as though the bag on her back filled with homework was actually filled with a hundred big boulders that would unsuspectingly squash her at any moment. Not that she was the only one who felt this way - just looking around sparingly at the other students emptying their lockers, she could spot many also rocking the bagged eyes look. Zipping up her </span>
  <em>
    <span>Papa Skull</span>
  </em>
  <span> themed backpack, she caught another glimpse of the talking jewel, silently mocking her and giving off a feeling of sparky energy. Just by swiping a finger over the shiny metal exterior, she felt as though it was giving energy to her, attempting to create a bond.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire drew her hand back, staring at it again for a good few seconds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You better be something cool, or I swear I’m gonna put you on Ebay because you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>seriously </span>
  </em>
  <span>creeping me out.” She harshly whispered to the inanimate object, half expecting it to answer back in the low, rumbling voice that had called out her name earlier. It stayed mockingly silent, as if to say :</span>
  <em>
    <span> ‘What’re you talking about lady? I can’t speak back.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Walking over to the bike racks, she heard a little commotion going on by some of the lockers on the other side of the courtyard, under some concrete shade. At a first glance it seemed like just some friends laughing amongst each other, until at a closer glance Claire saw that it was the basketball team captain speaking down to a small kid, Eli.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve towered over him, broad shoulders under a pristine polo shirt suited to a football player, a playful look on his brutish face. To put it in the nicest way possible, Steve was not what you’d call ‘academically inclined’, often skipping classes, or in the rare possibility that he actually showed up on time, not bothering to pay attention. Claire used to feel bad for him, back when they were younger and he seemed to genuinely try and do his work, but as they’d entered high school he’d soon taken on the persona of an ego-centered brat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve slapped a big hand on the metal locker above Eli’s cowering head, causing a clanging vibration.“So, tell me again, dweeb, what was it you saw this morning?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Monsters! I-I swear Steve, they were made of-of stone!” Eli looked as if he were on the verge of tears, knees knocking and not even trying to make eye contact with the hunkish brute cornering him. He was small, small for his age and still with a bit of a baby face beneath his huge square glasses, round eyes watering at the edges. As long as Claire could remember, Eli had been a clumsy twig, always ending up with bruises from knocking into corners, or bandaids on his knees and elbows from where he’d scraped them. Since he was also very smart, he and Claire shared quite a few classes, sometimes geeking out together over the newest plays when they performed together in drama club. She started to get closer, with the intention of doing something to make that sly grin fall of Steve’s face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve laughed, loud and obnoxiously, causing Claire to grit her teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay Pepperjack, why don’t you give us a bit more info, eh?” Steve snarked out, in a crude, egotistical voice. Claire’s fists balled at her sides, the beginning of an insult riding up her throat, but not before Jim beat her to it. Claire watched with bated breath as the shy kid from earlier approached the ape-minded basketball player.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Actually, apes were rather clever - Claire decided he acted more like a badly trained puppy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Steve, could you maybe stop…” Jim strode over and rested a hand on Palchuk’s arm warily, shrinking down once Steve locked onto him with glaring eyes. Jim wasn’t that much shorter than him, but in terms of physical prowess, he was sadly lacking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh..I didn’t even know you could talk, Lake - I thought Domsalski did all the chatting for you two!” Though what Steve said was rude, it was true, Jim did seem to be pretty silent, never once even raising his hand in a class to answer a question, always sitting right next to that ginger kid, Domsalski.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Steve, please j-just leave him alone...this is pointless." Jim pointed out logically, though unfortunately logic was not something Steve relied heavily on. By now people were starting to notice, honing in on the confrontation like vampires that craved high school gossip over blood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve tried to grab Jim's collar, but the smaller boy dodged his rough hands, side stepping with surprising grace. The blond jock growled under his breath. "Stay still, Lake, or are you too scared of a little chat?" He laughed again, that loud and annoying laugh that put her right on edge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eli was starting to shuffle away, swiping his bag and scuttling towards the crowd as Steve’s limited attention focused on Jim, who looked like he was thoroughly regretting his life choices up to this point. He stepped away again as the bully made another attempt to grab him, blue eyes widening as he grabbed Steve’s arm and twisted it behind his back, seemingly on instinct. He yelped in surprise, anger flashing over his features as Jim quickly let go of his arm and ran to his bike, not bothering to put on his helmet as he mounted it with a quiet “Sorry,” called out to Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah that’s right, run away Lake!” He laughed maniacally at his retreating form leaving the school courtyard speedily. “See you tomorrow for a little catch up!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The meaning behind Steve’s words was evident as a promise to rough Jim up a little, so once the crowds dispersed some more, Claire stalked over to where Steve was lazily leaning against the lockers, typing something into his phone with a frown.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” She said casually, an unimpressed scowl on her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Hey Nuñez, what’s up?” Steve said a little flirtatiously, a grin sliding up his lips as he stood straighter, beefy arms crossing over his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She breathed in deeply, burying the urge to slap the look off his face. “Look, I get that you want to intimidate people, or whatever, but could you please just leave Jim alone,” Claire liked Jim - not just in the ‘hey he’s cute’ way, but he seemed like a genuinely nice person, brave too. Not the kind of person who deserves to get picked on my a douche like Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why’d you care?” A hint of mirth made its way into his whiny voice. “Is he your </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Claire wanted to rip her hair out with her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pinched the bridge of her delicate nose, sighing deeply. “No, Steve, he’s just not a dick like you are, okay? So just stay away from him.” She tried to make her voice calm, but it only came out as a seething low sound from behind her clenched teeth. Her thin fingers pulled on the straps of her bag tightly, stressed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, I like it when a girl talks back like that!” He took a step closer to her, before speaking in disdain.  “Most of the others are all the same,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Well, that’s probably because you’re too thick to tell the differences.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>She imagined snidely remarking. “Ugh! Just go back to the stupid 90’s film where you came from Steve!” She growled at him, spinning around and heading towards her bike. The sun was starting to darken, grey clouds swooping overhead as a warning of heavy rains to come.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughed as she stormed away, calling out after her in an entertained voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on him!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Claire cycled home, she pedaled as fast as she could, but not before the rain got to her, dampening her styled hair. Hopefully none of it had got to the paper in her bag.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>                                        ---------------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rain had damaged the paper in her bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not so that it was beyond use, but enough to make the ink on printed homework run a bit, and to make the pages of her textbooks stick together. The Amulet, however, was pristinely clean and already dry, the silvery pieces shining spotlessly in the light of her kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her parents and little brother were gone, leaving before she got back from school to make it to a check-up appointment for Enrique, but luckily her mom had leftovers in the fridge for her to eat, along with chorizo from her dad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cleared the eclectic mess off the kitchen table, sweeping the numerous baby items into a container on the floor. It was pretty hard to focus on equations when there was a packet of diapers right next to you. Outside the window she could see how it was almost dark outside, the moon glimmering sweetly behind the clouds, raindrops still falling lightly against the window pane and creating a calming </span>
  <em>
    <span>pitter-patter. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The house felt oddly silent without the rest of her family there, and she almost missed her brothers wailing to fill the eerie quiet. Almost.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After completing her maths she got a snack of guacamole and tortilla chips, dipping one and stuffing it into her mouth as she investigated the Amulet once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whtt..rr..oo?” Came out from her muffled mouth, before she swallowed the delightful taste. “You want to say my name again? Cause I’m all ears.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a beat of silence, the faint blue light pulsing again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe she had imagined it - her life </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been pretty stressful the last few hectic days. She started an imaginary list in her mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why Claire deserves a freaking rest:</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<ul>
<li><em><span>She has a lot of homework.</span></em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>Her baby brother was a literal goblin of a child, as cute as he may look.</span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>Her parents don’t have time to take her to school anymore</span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>Or time to come to her drama shows</span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>Or time to hug her</span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>Or time to actually have a full on conversation with her.</span></li>
</ul><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rubbed a hand over her tired face. “Okay, last chance, Shiny, you wanna speak up? No one here except you and me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again, it stayed rudely silent. She groaned and face planted on the table, fully intent on falling asleep there, until a shuffling from below caught her attention. Claire shot up, worried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A creak, of something heavy being moved, along with a clatter as something metal fell to the floor in her basement. “Uhh, racoons.” She complained, picking up a broom from the corner and making her way to the stairs through the eclectic hallway. She took a quick glance at the large photo on the wall displaying herself and her brother, back when he was a newborn. A soft smile tugged at her lips. Entering the threshold of the basement, she pulled a string, turning on a dingy, swaying light in the creepy underground, the smell of rust and dust filling her nose like a clinging perfume one of her older tías wore on special occasions, and just as musty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wooden stairs creaked ominously underfoot in the gloom, her fingertips tracing through untouched dust on the wonky metal banister, red paint peeling away from the bars like old bark. Nothing seemed to be out of place, and for a few seconds, Claire thought maybe she’d imagined it. The mismatched shelves and cardboard boxes were all in place, decorated in a mist of cobwebs. She shuddered at the sight of one such cobweb dancing in vibrations as a fly got trapped in its confines. Letting out a breath of relief, she let the broom go lax in her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But as soon as her back was facing the room, a scratchy cough could be heard from behind the shelves, followed by some heavy shuffling. A cough, that racoons evidently did not make, even the classier racoons. Spinning around, she held the broom out like a weapon, as if the bristled end were a sharp point. Still, she managed to look menacing, syrupy brown eyes darting around the shadows in the corners.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who’s there? Come out!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A huge, inhuman being crept out from behind the shelving units, the small light reflecting off their matte skin, stony in texture. He was a darker mottled blue, seven feet tall, and with carved markings over their face and extra limbs. Four hands were clasped together sheepishly over a large gut, each with four fingers of their own that had no fingernails. Grey horns swept back from a long head, followed by a receding hairline of wiry blue hair, curled at the back like a wave. His mouth smiled, with jutting tusks and uneven teeth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire screamed, swinging the broom but missing widely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Miss Claire!” He exclaimed, as if this were a joyous occasion, unperturbed by the girl’s still constant scream, high-pitched and unrestrained. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah! Finally, we have found you!” Claire scrambled back, the broom now fallen on the floor, and let out a yelp of pain as she backed up into a rusty nail poking from a beam of wood. From behind the happy creature came another, only twice as big, made of stone as well but this time a light grey, as if carved from a cliff face. He was almost half covered in a shaggy carpet of green hair, dredging forward on two long arms, and two short legs. His horns were ridged cones, more like little nubs between his pointed ears. His green eyes sparkled with mirth, and when he spoke out, he had a slow, gravelly voice as if he was unsure of the language.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Took long time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire screamed again, covering her eyes as if it would all go away when she looked again. Her knees knocked together, and she shivered in fright. Peeking through her fingers, they were still unfortunately very much real.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blue one was staring exasperated at his friend, the lower sets of hands on his hips.“Yes, well,  AAARRGGH, we were held back by the daylight - not to worry young one, my name is Blinky, and my compatriot here is known as AAARRGGH.” He gestured at them as he spoke their names</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi.” The large one said, with a toothy smile, and a wave in Claire’s direction. Thinking he was going to hit her, she brought up her arms to protect herself, shouting again in distress.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AAAAAAAHHHH!” Claire screamed again, falling onto her backside on the unforgiving floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not like that,” AAARRGGH held up one stony hand, raising two fingers, and shook his head. “Spelt with three ‘R’s” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmmm...She says ‘Aaaaah’ alot!” Blinky pointed out, tapping a finger to his chin with a clunky sound. His eyes lit up as if a lightbulb went off over his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps it is some form of greeting,” The one with many eyes bent over and let out a yelp himself, aimed at her vague direction. She tried to scrabble away towards the stairs, but was swept up by the grey boulder, who held her up by her feet despite her struggling.. Her anxious state seemed to make the blood rush to her head faster. Claire scrabbled and scraped at his hard fist, but only succeeded in tearing at the skin of her fingertips. Shouting, she attempted to kick with her feet and almost hit an eye. His lips pouted, almost offended.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky coughed to get her attention, and though she still struggled, she directed attention towards him. Did they want something from her? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I swear, if this has something to do with that Amulet, I’m putting it on Ebay.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>She dimly thought in the back of her mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Miss Claire, you have been chosen,” He said in a solemn, serious voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes widened, and she let out a sob of frustration as her legs began to tire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Looks bit scared.”The living boulder noted, a bit concerned, wide face leaning closer to sniff the girl in his hand. As he breathed in air, her hair flew towards his powerful nostrils.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well, perhaps it best you put her down -</span>
  <em>
    <span> gently,</span>
  </em>
  <span> mind you.” Blinky made a downwards gesture with his upper hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire was dropped to the ground in a heavy heap, arms stretching out instinctually to block her fall. Blinky sighed in disappointment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is a moment of some solemnity, old friend,” The many-eyed creature chided.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So-lem-bi-ly?” The giant pondered, not recognising the word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It means serious and dignified.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm...Dig-oo-ni-fied.” AAARRGH let the word roll from his deep voice, testing it out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, who-who are you people?” She squeaked out, looking upwards as they towered over her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes, just getting to that, where was I, AAARRGGH?” Blinky raised a hairless, rocky brow in question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AAARRGGH started listing things off his thick fingers. “Miss Claire...Found you...yelping…”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Thank you. Miss Claire, you have been chosen for the most sacred of offices.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...What?” At this point, she was more confused than scared, her breathing rate returning to normal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky looked like he was gearing up to start a lecture, pulling up to his full height and speaking with pride.“The Amulet of Daylight challenges you to ascend to the protection of all, the protection of a vast civilisation beneath your very feet, unbeknownst to your kind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M-my kind?” Claire could feel tiny shards of rocks and dust on her palms that were flattened on the icy floor, the smell of petrichor wafting to her when they stepped a little closer. The both of them smelf like the underground, the dirt beneath the Earth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The trolls seemed confused by her question, sharing a glance with one another. “Humans, of course. We trolls have stayed out of your sight for, oh almost a millenia I’d say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“T-trolls?” They definitely weren’t human, but that hadn’t been what she was expecting. The only trolls she had heard of were the little fuzzy-haired ones her Abuelita collected, and then left to her parents in her will. Claire still had nightmares about their creepy little smiles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, indeed, and it is now </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> charge to help us, for you, young one, are the Trollhunter!” He spread his arms wide and grinned, as if expecting her to rejoice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trollhunter.” AAARRGH echoed back, from behind where she was still sitting on the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, what say you, Miss Claire?” She stared at him for a good few seconds in shocked silence, before her vision seemed to blur and she collapsed backwards, hair splaying out as she unconsciously rested on the ground. Blinky and AAARRGH exchanged a worried look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...That a yes?” The large one rumbled out optimistically. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>                                                           ---------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Strickler, may I talk for a minute with you?” Jim asked softly, stepping into his office. The British man’s eyes glowed an unnatural yellow, smiling welcomingly. “Of course Young Atlas - what’s the matter?” Jim swept in, looking more anxious than usual, skittishly looking around before going to fiddle with some chess pieces by the window. Outside, it looked as though a storm was about to start, trees swaying violently in the early evening.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The teenager wrung his hands, looking at the floor nervously.“I don’t know how, but I think maybe the Amulet was taken by someone going through the canals.” He picked up and inspected a Knight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler’s eyes widened momentarily in shock, placing down his pen on his desk. “What? Why on Earth would a human take the Amulet?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, maybe they thought it looked cool or something.” Jim walked over and sat down on the stool on the opposite side of the ornate desk, looking Strickler directly in the eyes.. “Would explain why we couldn’t find it in Kanjigar’s remains.” He added on hopefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The oldest looked at the younger in concern.“If you don’t mind me asking, Young Atlas, what has led you to believe the Amulet was taken? Surely you would not suggest such a thing without some form of proof.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim’s eyes darted to the poster on the wall advertising the school play. “I-I don’t know if what I saw was definitely the Amulet of Daylight, but I’m fairly sure it was in the bag of a student - Claire Nuñez, Sir.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah, well that would explain his anxiousness. Strickler tried not to busy himself with human affairs too much, but even he could see how his young half-changeling charge looked at the punkish girl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And this happened today, am I correct?” Hopefully Claire had just found the amulet...He’d hate to kill one of his students, and such an act would surely traumatise Jim horribly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler smiled calmly. “Well, let’s hope she just happened upon the Amulet then - it would be rather unfortunate if it had chosen its champion already.” He didn’t want Jim to worry, but he still had to prepare him for the chance that one of his classmates may soon become an enemy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim froze up, a look of panic flashing over his face. “Wait, you mean, maybe it...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Chose</span>
  </em>
  <span> Claire?” his hand tightened on his satchel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Trollhunter Amulet works in mysterious ways, Young Atlas, best not to question its judgement.” Standing up, he walked to open the door, ruffling Jim’s flat hair on the way out. “And besides, shouldn’t you be heading home right now?” He knew Jim liked to have enough time to cook a nice dinner for his mother.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once Jim had left, Strickler watched through the window as he cycled away, pondering if Jim’s connection to the possible new Trollhunter could be useful. His eyes flashed back at himself in the reflection of the window, at the same time as a flash of lightning across the sky.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, so that's it for part one - hope you enjoyed, and I would really love some comments if anyone has any thoughts!<br/>I know that in the show Claire's family does occasionally speak Spanish, so I will try and incorporate it into this story, however I do not know it very well so if I make mistakes, please correct me - Also, I do not live in America so just ignore it if I write something that looks a bit weird or odd.</p><p>Obviously I've changed how a few scenes play out, because this does follow the basic outline of the show, but I wanted it to better suit Claire's journey rather than Jim's. This chapter was originally going to be Becoming parts One and Two, but it was too long so I split them up - next chapter will be posted soon, probably on a weekly/twice every week schedule.</p><p>Steve hasn't really came up much in this chapter, except to be a dick, but I promise in the next few chapters...he will be of importance. Also, though Jim is a changeling, he's only half because James Lake Sr was a changeling, so he isn't like centuries older than Claire - they're the same age, cause I didn't feel comfortable writing a young girl in a relationship with someone much older.</p><p>Comments are welcome!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Becoming the Trollhunter, Part two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Claire learns more about the mantle of Trollhunter, Jim's starting to get stressed, and Steve?<br/>Steve is in for one hell of a ride.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay! Chapter two, this one is good, because it's where the story really gets going, and where canon goes sorta-a-little-loopy, but I promise, it's gonna get good.</p><p>Again, I'm so sorry Steve, but you start off as a bit of a dick in this chapter too, sweetie. Not to worry, you will become a better character soon! </p><p>(Also, since Claire is given the title  'courageous' , I had to give Kanjigar a different moniker because there are no other words beginning with 'C')</p><p>I'm not very good with spelling - I often put letters or numbers in the wrong order, and though I've edited it, please tell me if you notice a misspelling that needs correcting.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As she walked into school, her head was pounding, eyes suspiciously wandering over everyone in sight. Claire had an off putting, almost snarling visage on her face, so the rest of the student body tried to give her a wide berth as she stalked towards her locker. She hadn't had time to put on her makeup after waking up in her basement only a half hour before school started, so her winged eyeliner was faded, mascara blotted on the skin beneath her eyes. At least, with the fainting, she'd gotten a full nights rest. Her clothes were similar to what she wore the day before, a sleeveless white top with a faded band logo below her iconic blazer, along with ripped black tights and a short black miniskirt (Thankfully with pockets). Since Enrique was already at the nursery, and her parents at work, no one had commented upon her disgruntled appearance that morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claire stopped outside of her locker, staring at the blue metal with scary intensity as if it would grow a mouth and tell her all the things that had gone wrong in her life to lead up to this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trolls were apparently a thing. Claire never would have guessed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she first woke up, lying on the freezing floor of her basement, she would’ve assumed the whole thing had been one vivid stress-induced hallucination if not for the scrape marks by the shelves where they had been pushed by the hiding creatures. They hadn't left a note or anything 'Sorry for breaking in and revealing our magical existence.' , or even maybe waited for her to wake up - apparently leaving when they realized she could no longer hear them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire was organizing her locker before first period, heartfully aware of the weight of the amulet sitting in her bag. For a moment she’d considered leaving it home, but it had just felt..</span>
  <em>
    <span>.Wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do so. She felt weird without its presence nearby, like having an itch she couldn't scratch. Staring at the skull in her locker, she began to zone out, the sounds of sneakers squeaking on the floor, balls being bounced, and people chatting with their friends fading to nothing behind her. The smells of a hundred different deodorants all muddled into one, and the bright sunlight almost darkened in her peripheral-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claire! Oh, there you are, darling!” A large hand landed on her shoulder whilst she took the books from her locker, causing her to jump and squeak in alarm. The tall, pale lady with bulbous twisty black hair loomed above her, shiny white teeth pulled into a dazzling smile. She eyed the dangerously sharp red finger nails/claws that dug into her shoulder, before realizing who they belonged to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, h-hey Miss Janeth!” Claire said with relief, irrationally expecting a huge troll to be standing there for a split second. The woman was unnaturally thin, tense and spry like she could pounce at any second, probably to dole out maths homework to an unsuspecting student. There were deeply etched lines in her face, both from frowns and smiles, but currently the most prominent were the dimples and crow's feet from the grin on her bright-red lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Miss Janeth adjusted the huge black glasses, pushing further up her long nose.“You are coming to the auditions tomorrow, aren’t you?” Truth be told, Claire had almost forgotten about them, but now it was something to look forward to, a distraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I’ll be there!” She declared a little loudly, perhaps with a little too much enthusiasm. But Miss Janeth was not deterred in the least, smiling down at her odd yet favourite student.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah! Good, good...See you later then.” The older woman walked away with a wave, heels clacking on the grey floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miss Janeth was by far Claire’s favourite teacher. Not only did she teach two of Claire’s best subjects, Drama and Maths, she always had a peppy attitude, making their drama sessions fun and exciting. She was the one who got Claire into drama in the first place, right at the beginning of her high school career in a production of 'Little Shop of Horrors'.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rest of the day seemed to pass in a blur, her mind thinking of so many possible scenarios to do with Trolls that her body just moved by itself, carrying her head around. She drifted from class to class up until lunch, hearing snippets of Mary and Darci’s conversations when she was with them, but not fully paying attention due to the questions firing around her head like rockets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why have I been ‘chosen’ to be this Trollhunter guy? How many trolls are there? Do they all live underground? If so, how deep underground? Surely they would have been discovered? Do they all look like Blinky and AAARRGH? Are they nice? OH MY GOD DO THEY EAT PEOPLE? Will they eat me if I don’t do what they say? How did they get into my house?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And most importantly :</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What in Hell is a Trollhunter?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Claire? Claire babe, you in there?” Darci waved a ring-bedecked hand in front of Claire’s glassy eyes. Her punk friend had looked like she was possessed by a demon who didn’t know what humans were supposed to act like all day. Her mascara was a little smudged, like she’d slept with it on, and poking out from her boots she could see mismatched socks. Her blue nail polish was scratched and worn away, like she’d clawed at something, and when she’d taken off her blazer, Darci had seen a yellowy bruise beginning to form on her elbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary snorted from the opposite side of the cafeteria bench, pulling Claire back into reality. “Don’t even try, Darce, she’s in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>zone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Her social media obsessed friend waved her fingers for dramatic effect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Claire finally spoke up in a confused voice, half a tuna sandwich hanging out of her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both exchanged a look before giggling. “Wow, this play must really be getting to your head, or did Enrique keep you up again?” Darci asked, looking at her with concern and putting her fork down.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘No, actually, Darci. See, there’s an entire world of stony creatures beneath your feet, and two of them broke into my house last night to scare the shit out of me.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Claireshook her head and then swallowed her mouthful before talking, stuffing the crusts into her mouth unceremoniously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just got a lot on my mind - that maths homework last night was a real killer, kept me up until like one AM,” Claire looked down at her plate, staring into the crumbs of her sandwich as if the beige grains held the answers to all her questions. Sadly, all she got was the wafting stench of tuna. All around her were tables of other students, talking and laughing, and Claire wondered how they could all be so...<em>normal</em>. There were trolls! In Arcadia! Yet their worlds just kept on spinning like nothing had changed. Which for them, was true.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Must’ve been some hard-ass algebra to put the great Nuñez in a corner!” Mary exclaimed, though her eyes didn’t leave the screen of her sparkly pink phone. Claire rolled her eyes - Mary was probably texting Tight-Jeans-Hank once again. Her eyes lit up, and a sly smile spread across her red face. Sweeping a strand of black hair behind her ear, she stood up and started to jog away with a sheepish smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“By guys - Sorry, but duty calls!” She laughed as she left them, not bothering to pick up her tray. Claire started to sip her orange juice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darci sighed, playing with her salad. “One day, I hope she finds a guy that is known for having something greater than a huggable butt…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claire snorted, causing the citric juice to spray everywhere, splashing on her top and probably soaking into her bra. She tipped her head back and groaned as Darci laughed at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<em>Really</em>? I washed this just a few days ago!” Her white, faded ACDC T-shirt now sported little orange splatters on its lightning bolt design. She started rubbing the wet areas with a napkin Darci handed her. Watching out the corner of her eye she saw Jim leave the cafeteria, waving at the lunch lady before he whilst he dumped his tray. Claire smiled at his kindness. Though at the other end of the room, she could see him in an oversized blue hoodie, engaging in a little conversation with a lunch lady that made her smile, before leaving.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The soft smile dropped from her painted lips instantly as she watched Steve follow right after him, a playful grin plastered on his face. His shoulders swung as he walked, so different from how Jim seemed to glide where he went, also wearing blue but in the form of a polo shirt. '<em>Honestly, what kind of teenager wears polo shirts?' </em>Claire took great pleasure in insulting him in her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her friend hadn't noticed her staring, still sipping out of a lidded cup - probably coffee, knowing Darci's taste.“Hey Darce, I’m sorry, but I think I’m gonna go wash this juice off in the bathrooms before it goes all sticky.” She stood up, taking her tray with her and smiling apologetically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Darcy waved her hand as she looked down at her watch, eyes widening as panic set in - A look of <em>'Oh shit,'</em> on her round face. “Shoot! I got mascot practice now, see you later Claire Bear!” Her friend sprinted off towards the gym, duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Claire couldn’t quite understand why she enjoyed dancing in the costume of a mole - but hey, if that's what made her happy, it’s what made her happy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire decided she’d do anything to make sure that her friends didn’t get dragged into all this troll stuff. They deserved a sense of normal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dumping her remains in the food waste bin, Claire left the building, the sudden sunlight blinding her momentarily. She couldn’t see either of the boys, but she’d have to find them eventually, right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim was too nice to get beaten up by a guy like Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘You trolls want me to be a protector? Fine. But let me protect my friends first.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took her a few minutes to find them, getting odd stares from the sparse amount of students outside the cafeteria as she ran about, a manic look in her eyes as if she were stalking her prey. When she finally found them, Steve was in much the same position as he was the day before with Eli, except Jim was the one with his back shoved against the metal lockers. No one else was around, leaving them alone and outside the main school building. Claire almost growled - of course, Steve would wait until Jim wasn't with Toby. Steve sniggered, and the boy in the scrappy blue hoodie tried to walk away, a tired look in his eyes. Neither of them noticed her standing a few metres away, behind Steve’s back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heh, that’s what I thought, always knew you were a coward, Lake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go away, Steve - I just wanna get to my locker, okay?”Jim sounded stressed, his voice taut, but as he tried to walk away Steve yanked him by the fabric of his sleeve</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay? This isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lake we’re due for a rematch!” He spread his arms wide as if this was obvious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve, I don’t know what I did to offend you, but I’m sorry.”Jim looked down at the concrete floor, adjusting his satchel over his shoulder. “I really don’t want to fight.” He said, speaking softly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the largest amount of words Claire had ever heard the quiet boy say in one go, amplifying her anger tenfold when Steve did not seem deterred, instead pressing onto him. Claire began to see red, muscles tensing as she ran towards them. Jim noticed her before Steve, eyes widening in awe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Jim’s plea had only made Steve grin more. “Ohhh, I see now, you’re just a little, pathetic, wi-” He was cut off by Claire ramming herself into him, shoving him onto the ground with a groan. She felt a primal satisfaction at the way the air got knocked from his lungs. He seemed to fall in slow motion, suprised as his eyes widened and he fell on his back with a thump</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the- Nuñez?” The bully spluttered out, shocked to see her. Brown eyes widened, and he pulled himself up to rest on his elbows. Jim seemed frozen in place looking between the two rapidly to see what would happen next. His hair was mussed around, a few black strands out of place, and the strings of his hoodie were uneven. She's never noticed it before, but he actually had a very few light freckles splashed across his small hooked nose. For a while, they all stared at each other in silence before Steve started to say something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claire swore, she was one rude comment from Steve away from smashi-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on out here?” A male, British voice exclaimed. Mr Strickler strutted into the yard from the main building, coming to a stop next to the lockers where he towered over all three students. He was elegant and well built, with broad shoulders and a strong jaw, grey hair styled impeccably in a way that swooped back from his forehead and seemed to make his face longer. Mr Strickler had always been kind to Claire, but his face looked stern and strict with a thin roman nose that jutted out harshly. For an older man he had a surprising lack of wrinkles, except for a few soft lines in his forehead and at the corners of his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhmm..uh..” Claire had no idea what to say - her mother may be diplomatic, but evidently, Claire had not inherited any of those traits. Luckily, Jim came to the rescue, stepping towards the history teacher in his roughed up black converse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Sir, Claire was just helping me and Steve out, right?” He looked at them, as if to say,</span>
  <em>
    <span> ‘go along with it!’  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Although Claire had to wonder why on Earth he was protecting Steve - If she was in his position she would have turned him right in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O-Of course,” Claire helped Steve up from the ground with a series of moans, restraining herself from gripping his hand just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>wee</span>
  </em>
  <span> bit too tight. They all stared at him for his judgement, Claire fiddling with the hem of her stained shirt anxiously while Steve breathed deeply, rubbing the base of his spine..</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr Strickler looked despairingly at the trio of terrible liars. Honestly, he had expected better deceit from Jim. He’d have to give him some more pointers on his lying voice sometime.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at the two. “Steve, Claire, come to my office - we’ll see if we can solve this little skirmish, shall we?” Turning around, he heard them shuffling behind him, following him back indoors to his office. Behind his back, they both gave each other the stink-eye, Steve poking his tongue out at Claire, and she giving a bored middle finger in return.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she walked in, Claire’s eyes seemed to linger on the wooden masks on his shelf, noticing how the whittled features were almost trollish. Mr Strickler sat calmly behind his desk, taking the cap on and off of his pen with his hands, waiting for them to sit down on the stools on the opposite side.  His office was rather large, for a high school  history teacher's, with many book shelves and a few antiques.  “Now, what happened?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both Claire and Steve tried to speak at the same time, their words jumbling together in Mr Strickler’s ears, animated faces both trying to get a word in edgewise. He hummed in annoyance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One at a time, If you please,”He placed the pen on the desk and folded his hands on his lap. “Claire, why don’t you tell me your side of the story?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighed in annoyance. “Look, I was just walking to my locker to get a book, and I saw Steve cornering Jim outside, so I thought I’d see what was going on.” The young girl raised her hands in the air as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Whatcha going to do about it?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“....And then you pushed Steve onto the ground, correct?” He patronisingly lifted one grey eyebrow at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her face fell, and the blonde smirked at her.“Well, not- not exactly, see, I thought Steve was trying to hit Jim-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Which I wasn’t!” He huffed and crossed his arms across his chest. “Lake and I were just talking, and I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>going </span>
  </em>
  <span>to put a hand on his shoulder, until you came over and knocked me to the ground!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire scoffed, looking away out the window, where some kids were sat on a bench.“I think that’s a bit of an over exaggeration-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not!” He butted in, and Mr Strickler was very much starting to regret his decision to become a teacher at this point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Enough, both of you.”The two of them went silent, though still glaring at one another. “Clearly, neither of you are mature enough to speak to each other sensibly. And Claire, I expected better of <em>you</em> - I doubt your mother will enjoy hearing this.” He watched as her face fell, a small flicker of panic crossing over her features. Brown orbs looking downwards, she fiddled with the hem of her miniskirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Sorry” They both answered together in dejected tones, though neither actually meant it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, neither of you were hurt too badly,” Steve pouted at the dismissal of his ‘injury’ “So I’ll let you off the hook this time - But Claire, do you think you could stay behind for a moment? I’ve something else I’d like to discuss with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve stalked out after sending an annoyed look at Claire, slamming the door behind him as he left, silently fuming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr Strickler got right to the point, staring at her intently with a worried and concerned look on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure that doing the play is the right thing at the moment?” He asked solemnly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Claire was taken aback - why did her history teacher care about the play?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’ve already got quite a bit on your plate with all the extra credit work you do, so is there really any time for Shakespeare?” The teacher said this as if it were obvious. Which it was - she’d heard her mother say it to her enough times already. She told him exactly what she told her, speaking through clenched teeth in a determined voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make it work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaned back in his leather chair. “I suppose that’ll do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waving her out, she walked away, stopping just before she left the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, and Claire,” He called out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” She turned around to look him in his green, heavy lidded eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anytime you need a hand, or even just someone to talk to, my door is always open.” A paternal smile played on his lips, and Claire could see why so many students respected him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding. “Thanks.” The door made a clicking sound behind her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler shook his head and chuckled once she had left. Young Atlas must have been wrong - Claire was no Trollhunter! She was just another bumbling teenager trying to get through school. Perhaps Jim had seen a jewel of some sort - The boy was probably overthinking things, as usual. The Amulet had probably chosen yet another troll from the underground, before they had a chance to snatch up the amulet themselves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>                                                                      ------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back home, Claire was once again studying the amulet, hoping to decipher some sort of clue from its intrinsic design. She had guessed that the weird lettering on the ridge was perhaps trollish, but how was that any use to her? If the stupid thins was going to call out to her, it could at least say something in a language she recognised. Like the day before, her parents were out, but only because of an impromptu meeting they had to go to, leaving her alone with no dinner and a pouting little brother. In a little while, hopefully the pizza she ordered would be here. (A large, meat heavy pizza of grease and heaven.) </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Enrique was happily sat in his high chair, laughing and smacking his lips whilst Claire spoon-fed him beige-orange mush. “Heeeeere’s the aeroplane!” She whispered as she moved the spoon in circles, making zooming noises before it flew into his mouth. He clapped his hands and giggled, wanting more. His brown eyes sparkled with innocent glee, as if playing with his food was the most important task in the world. Claire smiled at him before kissing the crown of his head. Enrique annoyed her at times, but he was the most important person in the world to her, a little ball of sunshine in her house. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry Honey, but that’s it for now,” She placed the spoon in the sink and the can in the recycling, noticing the glow coming from her amulet. Enrique started making grabby hands towards it, almost tipping his chair over.Claire jogged over and stabilized him.  “Oh, oh no, you do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanna touch that, trust me.” She unbuckled him and lifted him out, placing him in his little playpen  next to the coffee table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you play with those toys, hmm?” Her only response was a laugh as he launched himself towards a toy digger, rolling it across the carpet. A clap of thunder ricochet through the sky, making Enrique give out a little shriek of wonder.By this point, the rain was so heavy that Claire could hear it pounding down on her roof like a million tiny fists. Arcadia seemed to be going through a little storm season, at the moment. One of the things she liked most about her brother was how curious he was, scared of nothing, not even loud whether that made even Claire shudder. Sometimes she wondered if the reason he was so fearless was because he hadn’t been taught what to fear yet, and then she hoped that she was once like that too. She perched on the edge of the sofa, resting her feet on the edge of the coffee table as she had only mismatched yellow socks on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Claire looked down again at the Amulet, cradling it in her hands, she gasped. What used to be in a strange, unrecognisable language, was now cursive English, swirling around its silver top. Claire stood up, blinking a few times to make sure she wasn't seeing things - but nope, the words stayed stubbornly in one of her own languages.<em> 'Do I read it out? What if something happens?' </em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was just a piece of metal - surely it couldn't do any damage?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, here goes - Fortune favours the bold, Claire.” She loosened her shoulders, rolling them up and down as she bounced on the balls of her feet. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply through her nose before holding the amulet close to her face.“For the Glory of Merlin...Daylight is mine to command!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, nothing happened. Claire stared at it in disappointment, hopeful features fading away. She was about to put it down again, when it flew out of her hand like it was pulled on a line, floating midair in front of her face. It seemed to look into her soul, scanning her for something. The metal hand ticked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a thud, It then rammed itself to her chest, exploding in a pure white light that made spots in her eyes, and her whole body went all tingly, weighed down. The flesh above her heart burned like touched by a hot pan, the smell of a storm filling the air. When her sight returned, she looked down to see her entire body covered with silvery armour, smooth and aerodynamically fitted to her physique. With wide eyes, she slowly lifted up her left hand, admiring the glowing blue patterns embedded into the metal of her gauntlet. The whole ensemble looked like something from a Shakespeare play with fairies, bringing a smile to her face. Awed, she gasped, and took a few steps forward, the metal clanking on the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This...is so</span>
  <em>
    <span> cool</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Claire squealed, testing out a punch in midair. The metal exterior twisted with her movement, lighter than she thought it would be. It was like being wrapped in....energy, the same energy that had stayed hidden in her bag the past few days, now finally broken free. Feeling like a warrior, some sort of Joan of Arc in modern times, she strode over to her baby brother, who dropped his toy and stared up at her, jaw slackened and wide. Crouching down to his height, she watched as some drool trickled from his lips, one chubby soft hand reaching through the playpen bars to stroke the silvery surface. Claire chuckled at his cute pudgy face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“D’you think your older sister is cool now, huh?” He giggled in response, clutching one finger and trying to suck on it, before she pulled it away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doorbell rang, making the both of them jump back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, crap! The pizza!”Claire dug her fingers into the grooves around the amulet above her heart, but her cladden fingertips just scrabbled at it loosely. “Come on, come on...Why won’t you come off?” She yanked at it once more, groaning in effort, and for a split second she had a mini-panic where she thought maybe it would </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>come off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doorbell rang again, letting out a shrill sound that drilled into her skull. Enrique let out a little whimper, wondering what had his light-clad sister so stressed - and why was the door screaming?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire watched the letter flap push inwards, a lightly tanned hand sticking through and waving awkwardly. “Hey, ummm, I know this might sound weird but I can hear you in there, and it’s-It’s a little wet out here.” The pizza man chuckled nervously, and if she wasn’t having such a crisis, she probably would have recognised his voice. “So, could I come in with your pizza - just until it dries up a bit?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A loud clap of thunder roared above them, and Claire resigned to look down at her body as his hand withdrew from the letterbox. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I could always just play it off as a costume, right? What’s he gonna do, call the cops?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> hoped it wasn’t illegal to wear armour without a permit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shush, I’ll be back in just a sec, okay?” The baby gurgled in response.”I’m coming! Just give me a sec.” With a clanking of metal slides and plates, she jogged through the hallway to the door,and rested her hand of the handle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You better not do anything weird,” The trollhunter muttered as a warning to the light on her chest, the only answer being a faint pulsation of blue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Swinging the door open, the last person she expected was standing dejectedly on her doorstep, holding a sopping pizza box in his hands, shivering in the cold. His red vespa was parked just outside her front yard, dripping and shining below the pinkish-grey evening sky. He smelt like dough, and tomatoes, with smudges of flour on the cuffs of his jumper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-Nuñez?” Steve Palchuk stuttered out, obviously not expecting her, fumbling with the large box as if he was about to drop it. He looked like a wreck - blond hair all messed up without any gel in it, smudges of what looked like paint all over his hands and a few splatters on his neck. Instead of his trademark polo shirt, he was wearing a loose knitted jumper, with purling patterns in a faded jolly red.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...So...uh,” Steve pointed a finger loosely at her attire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just...</span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> like armour…” Claire stared at her metal-encased feet awkwardly, wondering what she could possibly say next.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>                                                  ---------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve bopped his head along to the music of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Panic At The Disco!,</span>
  </em>
  <span> painting light blue watercolour as a background for a new piece - a beach that he had taken a photo of the last time he and his Dad had gone on a trip together. His desk was in front of the window, the white frame showing an image beyond the glass of a darkened street, dimly lit by flickering street lamps. The sky was a navy blue, swirling into purple, then pink on the horizon, though the stars still shone in their positions, the moon partially hidden by a grey cloud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He dipped his wide brush back into the palette, and made another swipe on the paper, the lyrics of ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>When the Day met the Night’</span>
  </em>
  <span> fading to the back of his mind. His bedroom was small, just big enough for a bed, closet, and desk, and below he could hear the cooks in the kitchen of the pizza kitchen, clanging pots and pans together, calling out as different orders were made. The pizzeria was quite popular, so Steve was used to the bustling noise in his building. Across his walls were an assortment of his own paintings, mostly of animals or different wildlife landscapes, and photos mainly of him and his Dad. Above his headboard was a large poster of an abstract tree, it’s branches in bright multi colours, and the paper lit up by the orange fairy lights he’d pinned up around the border.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tried not to think too hard on his conversation with Nuñez earlier, but it kept sneaking its way back into the forefront of his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“ I thought Steve was trying to hit Jim-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I wasn’t!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was he going to hit Lake? Steve didn’t think he actually would have, but he was so caught up with adrenaline, so angry that his insults didn’t seem to affect Lake that - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he was actually kind of glad Nuñez had pushed him. Sometimes...Steve knew he took things too far. Pushed people too much before he realised that what he was doing was wrong. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. <em>'Jim can deal with a few insults - it's not like I physically hurt him!'</em></span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Downstairs, he heard someone open the door to the apartement, shouting up the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve!”His Dad called out in a hurried voice. “Steve, I’m sorry, but Charlie just called in sick and I really need someone to deliver a pizza - It’s only like a five minute drive, that all right?” His Dad sounded half worried, half stressed, probably tired from all the orders coming in. Steve rolled his eyes.</span>
  <em>
    <span> ‘Sick my ass, I saw Charlie on the corner smoking with his friends when I walked back from practice.’</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, just let me get dressed - I’ll be right down!” He shot back, getting up and running a hand through his ungelled hair. He grabbed the soft red sweater that used to be his dad’s, mindful that the paint on his hands didn’t rub off on it when he pulled it over his head. The door shut again, probably from his Dad re-entering the kitchen. Steve hastily shoved on some sneakers, sloppily tying the laces before picking up the helmet that was stored under his desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he ran down the stairs, the sour smell of tomatoes reached his nose, along with the soft, floury scent of dough. They only intensified as he opened the door at the bottom, leading into a crowded kitchen. It was a familiar scene to the boy - five or so cooks walking around with serious faces and food splattered aprons, gracefully maneuvering from the different stations. A radio blasted some old western sounding songs, though he could never make out the lyrics since it was so drowned out by all the chopping, pounding, and whirring. As he swept by the brick oven he felt a blast of heat, nicely warming his skin through the wool. Above him the fluorescent lights illuminated the messy countertops, and he heard his sneakers squeak over the tiled floor before he entered the carpeted lobby.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The actual ‘shop’ part was small, only large enough for a counter and a space for a few people to stand, as they mainly just had people phone in rather than come to the pizzeria itself. The counter was in front of the doorway which Steve stepped through, with a metal top and a till built into it. Where the customers couldn’t see, there were a few damaged photos of Steve and his Dad, the most noticeable being him as a seven year old, gap-toothed and grinning as he held a dead fish up in his hands. That had been a nice trip - until they had gotten home, that is. He wistfully stared at the photo for a few seconds before the elder Mr Palchuk spoke up from where he was sitting on a stool, writing something down on a piece of scrap paper that he then stuck on a pizza box.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here’s the address, Son,” He handed him the pizza, the paper sporting a few lines written in loopy cursive, otherwise unreadable unless you had years of practice reading it - Which Steve had.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay Dad, don’t worry, I got this.”He gave his best cocky grin, but all he really wanted to do was finish his watercolour.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr Palchuk sighed deeply, rubbing a hand on his sweaty forehead. Steve couldn’t tell if it was from the kitchen’s heat or general stress.“I know, and I’m sorry, but you know how it is - you finished all your homework though, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve laughed warmly. “Yeah, I got it all done, see you later!” He called out over his shoulder, exiting onto the street through the clear doors. On the outside of the premises was a lit up LED sign, spelling out : ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Arcadia Pizza</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bye!”He heard his Dad shout after him, slightly muffled by the closed door. The Pizzeria was located down a slim street in the downtown, tall brick monsters towering over him with eyes made of flashing neon signs. A few people hung out by the corner, smoking and vaping with their friends who laughed at empty jokes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he mounted his red vespa and slid the pizza into the carrier (Technically, the business’s vespa, but he was allowed to ride it when it wasn’t being used), he took a moment just to breathe in some air relishing at the wind softly whistling his face. Driving through the streets until he got to the more suburban area, Steve thought about how nice all these houses were, warm glows pouring out of the windows and reflecting on the droplets of water on the grass outside. He and his dad had a few succulents, but they weren't quite the same as an actual garden. There were a few droplets of rain dripping onto his scalp, but he thought it’d probably clear up by the time he got to his destination.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(The rain did not clear up.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time he got to the house, it was pouring down in buckets, lightning cursing through the sky like spells cast from a wand and thunder rumbling louder than the engine of his scooter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve ran up to the porch as fast as he could with the awkward box in his hands, probably squashing a few flowers underfoot in their yard. Though it was still quite dark outside, Steve could see how large the house was, covered in a pristine white paint and not a crack in sight. The cream curtains were closed, but from inside he saw a warm, inviting golden glow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pushed the doorbell with a wet finger, tapping his foot on the wooden doorstep as he waited for a reply. He shuddered in a cool breeze, using all of his willpower to not open the box and shove the delicious smelling pizza right into his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a strike of lightning that shattered the painting of the sky, the rain got heavier once more, so thick and slushy that Steve found it hard to make out his vespa only a few metres away. It would be dangerous to drive home in weather like this, even if he was close by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Impatiently, he rang the doorbell again, hoping that someone would just open up, maybe even let him stay inside whilst the rain faded away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From the other side, Steve heard a noise of someone walking on creaking floorboards, and what sounded like a baby laughing. Almost like they didn’t want to open up the door for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew he’d probably regret it later, but he balanced the box on one arm, sticking his left hand through the letter flap. Clearing his throat, he tried to talk through the tiny oblong hole. “Hey, ummm, I know this might sound weird but I can hear you in there, and it’s-It’s a little wet out here.” There was a heavy silence for a few beats, no response coming out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Well if you fail once, gotta try again, Palchuk.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “So, could I come in with your pizza - just until it dries up a bit?” His voice sounded a little whiny, and he was trying to be polite, but this person was seriously getting on his nerves. He took his hand out of the opening and adjusted the box again, intending on ringing the doorbell just to be petty before he left. At least their pizza would become a tasty, if a little wet, dinner for himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lock on the door clicked, and the handle pressed downwards, the white door swinging inwards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The person on the other side was small, thin and wiry, and covered from the neck down in a mystical suit of armour. It was silver and smooth, unnaturally curved as if made of something more pliable than steel, like a statue of a knight brought to life. Blue and white light spread like veins in strange patterns on the glowing surface, lines and circle and swooshes of elegant drawings. He felt his mouth open wide with awe, almost dropping the box.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, he saw who was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wearing</span>
  </em>
  <span> the outfit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N-Nuñez?” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>                                                      ----------- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <b>
    <em>Don’t worry bout me - sheltering from rain’</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve clicked send, texting his Dad the message and then putting the beat up I-phone back in the pockets of his black jeans. He and Claire were both sat at the coffee table, her little blond brother playing with toys on the floor and Claire enjoying her dinner, not bothering to say anything. She’d let him stay out of the rain, but he didn’t blame her for disregarding a warm welcome.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That armour...It was so real, beautiful actually, but still quite uncomfortable looking. He wondered why she was wearing it whilst eating. Was she breaking it in? Is that what you did with armour? Steve had so many questions. Anyhow, The disgruntled and tired expression on her face made it hard for him to ask. She looked much as she had in school earlier, blue streaked hair tied back in a bun, eyes shimmering in lilac powder and ears sporting glinting silver piercings. Steve thought that she was good looking, despite her punk get up, or perhaps because of it - as did many other guys at the school, judging from locker room conversations - with a petite face, thin nose that ended in a tip, and round warm eyes beneath a curtain of black lashes, Claire had made many blush. When she smiled, she always did it more on one side of her face than the other, as if she was smirking at something that no one else found funny. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So…Is it for a drama thing?” He said mildly, knees bouncing in stimulation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had a look of confusion. “Drama thi-”  Her face lit up as if she had an idea “Yeah! Yeah, that is exactly why I am wearing this, b-because there is a script, where, uh…” Her eyes fell to a poster on the table “...Where Juliet is a soldier!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, well, good for her, I guess.” Steve tried to put on a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire didn’t know how to respond, so she basked in the awkward silence, listening to Steve’s drumming fingers. What she’d give to have Enrique start screaming as a distraction. Unfortunately, her brother had decided that </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the perfect time to start being silent, happily rolling a plastic car around as he crawled at the pace of a snail.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I, uh, look, Nuñez, I’m,” Apologizing was neither something Steve enjoyed or was particularly good at. “I’m sorry...About y’know, that little tiff with Lake.” He ran a hand through his damp hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” She swallowed a bite, looking into his eyes sternly. “Well, you were a dick. And I’m not sorry if you got hurt.” She crammed a whole slice of meat feast into her mouth,part of the crust sticking out from between her lips. Whilst still maintaining eye contact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, I got a little carried away.” He fiddled with the fraying ends of his sweater, trying not to drool at the enticing scent of meat on a pizza.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like you did with Eli?” She pointed out, sarcasm evident in her monotone voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve looked like he was about to say something, but then thought better. Eli was fine! He was just joking around with him, right? Maybe he had taken it a tad far, after all, Eli wasn’t known for his unbreakable confidence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve wanted to know something,“Hey, Clai-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The front door swung open, being left unlocked from Steve’s entrance, a towering, rocky blue troll with numerous eyes and large extra hands burst through, causing the both of them to scream. (Though Steve significantly louder and higher in pitch.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“MISS CLAIRE!” He exclaimed loudly, rattling the floorboards beneath him, closely followed by the lumbering form of AAARRGH, who took a while to squeeze himself through the human-sized door. Once in, the gargantuan carefully shut the door with a click, turning his green back in their direction. “Door...Small,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky laughed warmly, spreading all four arms out wide and coming towards them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve continued to whimper, cowering on the floor, whilst Claire looked apprehensive. Enrique took one look at the scared boy, glanced over at the troll occupying his house, and went right back to what he was playing with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s you again!” She shouted, stepping back and pointing a finger at them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes...what a very astute observation, Miss Claire.” Blinky looked her up and down, as if only just realizing something was different. “Oh, how wonderful! I see you have already donned the armour!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who this?” AAARRGH asked, dragging himself to the quivering blond, who jumped back and pressed himself up against the brown sofa, shielding his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire crossed her arms over her chest with a clink. “That’s Steve, but- what?” She shook her head “What, are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The amulet called to us!”Blinky said proudly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire traced over the inscription on its surface. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>? But it’s only ever spoken to me, like, once!” She cut her arms through the air to demonstrate her point, an irritated frown on her face. Her lipstick had worn off when she ate the pizza, but her eyeliner was still just as scary looking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, if I’m being fully truthful, we have been spying on you.” Blinky looked sheepish, all six eyes drooping downwards, whilst AAARRGH chuckled and made a gesture with two fingers, swiping away from his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Spy On you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve whimpered again, pulling his phone from his pocket with shivering hands. “Don-Don’t worry Claire, I’m calling 911- No, wait! Animal control!” Claire almost felt sorry for him - but then she remembered how he’d cornered Jim. However, he’d seen the armour. And now, two talking, home-invading trolls! Claire pulled his arms away from his face, seeing the tears starting to fall from his eyes. He was dried of rain, but now there was a stressful sheen of sweat across his forehead. Claire tried to speak calmly to him, crouching down to his level.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve, look, it’s fine! Get up - they won’t hurt us!” She looked towards Blinky, whispering.”You won’t hurt us, right?” Doubt flickered through her voice briefly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky shook his head whilst AAAARRGH shuffled around, accidentally squashing a baby bottle under his large foot. Steve looked around slowly, and pulled himself to sit on top of the sofa, legs still quivering.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course we would not eat you! As I said yesterday Miss Claire, we need you, I was hoping as Trollhunter you’d have a better memory than this.” Enrique let out a little gasp, and all of Blinky’s eyes swept towards him, curiously tapping a finger against his long chin with the sound of two pebbles hitting each other. “Who is that? I’ve never seen such young of your species up close, does it have a name?” Claire was fairly sure that the troll would keep his promise of not hurting them, but no way was she taking any chances. The armour seemed to boost her confidence, making her voice smooth even though inside, she was panicking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, my little brother Enrique - so stay away from him!” She stormed over and stood next to his pen, but he seemed unbothered by the commotion. He sent an angelic smile up towards his sister.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Curiosity seemingly sated, he raised all arms in surrender, hairless brows raising upwards “Duly noted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve stuck up his hand, as if he was in class, his eyes never leaving AAARRGH’s hulking mass as he sniffed the sofa he was sat on. “Uh, C-Claire?” His voice was high and strained, tense as a tightrope as if any small movement could cause something to go amiss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky only just seemed to realise that another human had seen them, honing in on the jock with suspicion. “<em>Wait,</em> have you told this human anything about us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire suddenly got frustrated with the trolls’ (ironic) density. “No! He was just here when you</span>
  <em>
    <span> broke in!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She reminded him. Blinky was unfazed by her cynicism, or perhaps he just hadn’t spoke with enough humans to recognise it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He waved one hand, sweeping something away in the air. “Hmmmm, well, nothing to be done about it now, I suppose. But we trolls have gone many lengths to keep our existence secret, lest there be panic.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AAARRGH patted Steve’s head gently. “You scream louder than Cuh-laire.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Thanks?” He sunk even further into the brown material, dark brown eyes looking upwards at the brutish grey giant next to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s all right, He won’t tell anyone anything - right Steve?” Claire glared at Steve, who was more confused than a caterpillar that came out of its cocoon as a beetle rather than a butterfly. When  he had come there to deliver a pizza, he was not prepared for the prospect of discovering a race of magical creatures. Nor was he expecting to actually meet any.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cleared his throat and tried to sit up straighter. “No, umm, of course not! But, what’s going on, if you don’t mind me asking?” The one with many eyes sighed in disappointment, much like Mr Strickler had earlier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky furrowed his brows together, somehow creating wrinkles in his stone. “Gronka Morka…You’ve already seen us, perhaps it </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> be best to give Miss Claire’s friend some context.” AAARRGH nodded, rumbling in agreement. He sniffed Steve’s hair, making the fair strands go upwards before fluttering down again. “Smell like tomatoes.” He observed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I live above my Dad’s pizza shop.” He laughed awkwardly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire refocused his attention on him. suprised. “Wait really?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, You didn’t know that?” Well, it would explain why he delivered her pizza, at least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A four fingered arm waved in front of her face. “Could we please stay on track here, Trollhunter?” Claire grimaced, saying nothing as the trolls spoke to her classmate. “Ahem. Young Steven-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s Steve.” He interjected, seemingly in instinct, before his eyes widened when he realised he just spoke back to a huge, almost indestructible creature with spiked horns and outputting, sharp teeth. Thankfully, he just rolled all six of his yellow eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve. Your friend here is the Trollhunter, Her noble obligation is protective.” Gesticulating with his hands, he gestured in Claire’s general direction. Steve took a moment to process, the knocking of his knees stilling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Protective? Like a superhero - A-a super knight?” Steve seemed to relax a little, sinking more into the comfy cushions, sounding intrigued. He leant forward, resting his hands on his legs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky had only heard a little about the human concept of a ‘super-hero’, but if there were a trollish counterpart to saving those who cannot save themselves, it would be a Trollhunter. “Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite </span>
  </em>
  <span>what we’d call it, but, yes, that would be an accurate analysis.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Steve’s classmate was a superhero. Who knew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait - Who would she be protecting?” The boulder-like troll with a sea of green, mossy hair plodded over to his smaller counterpart, bowing his head to avoid overhead lighting and almost tiptoeing around the baby’s designated area. Claire watched him warily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AAARRGH gestured towards himself and the blue troll with a huge, swooping hand. “Us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Humankind.” Blinky added. “The mantle of Trollhunter is a sacred responsibility amongst my kind, One which has never been passed to a human before.” He loomed over her, his orange, slitted nose only an inch from her own. He smiled welcomingly at her as she leant away from his stinky breath and sharp, jagged teeth. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span>, is a momentous occasion.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire didn’t know what to say - this had all been unloaded on her rather quickly. Firstly, there were trolls - she could deal with that, after all she’d always hoped that there would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>else other than the mundane. However, she was not so sure about being a protector, having a responsibility over another’s wellbeing. The armour seemed to heat up a notch, as if trying to hug her by making her slightly warmer. Her amulet started glowing brighter, making a weird low humming. “Wait, what’s this going on? Oh my God, please tell me it’s going to come off at some point!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky bent over, closing three of his eyes so that the ones on the left side could get a more detailed look at the trollish artifact. “Hmmmm...The amulet seems to respond to your emotional state - perhaps you are feeling stressed?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’d say I’m a little stressed!”Claire spat out, trying again to get the stupid thing to come off. They all watched her silently as her tinnish fingers scratched upon the metal breastplate, the blue lines dimming. Steve raised a hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, If Claire’s the first human Trollhunter, what happened to the last one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claire hadn’t thought to ask that, and she wasn’t sure if she’d like the answer from the look that the two trolls exchanged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky sighed deeply and looked at the two humans solemnly. “Perhaps it would be best if you joined Steven on the sofa, Miss Claire, this is a lengthy conversation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seeing how Enrique was doing fine, she stepped away from him, sitting next to Steve by perching herself on the armrest. Her younger sibling observed them with huge, sparkling eyes. The rain outside had seemingly stopped, but an eerie wind still rattled her windows, the sound of a few cars driving past creating a whooshing sound in the quietude before anyone spoke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky took in a deep breath, and AAARRGH lumbered over so he could crouch behind the two teenagers, sticking his wet, pink tongue out at Enrique to make the small blob of flesh elicit a giggle. “Blinky use </span>
  <em>
    <span>many</span>
  </em>
  <span> words.” He whispered endearingly, the well spoken troll looking at him, irritated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A wistful smile played upon his mouth. “The glorious mantle of Trollhunter has been passed down from troll to troll for centuries, picking only the be-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire interrupted him with a wave of her hand, inciting an annoyed look at the interruption of his upcoming lecture.“So the previous guy, what,<em> retired</em>?” She asked hopefully, the whites increased around her irises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AAARRGH’s smile faded sadly. “Was, felled.” His green eyes stared off sadly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Felled?” Steve asked, never hearing the word before. Both trolls looked as if they didn’t want to elaborate, awkwardly twiddling thick digits with stony clinks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire took a moment to recognise the word from a book she’d read a while ago, something about knights, and dragons, and damsels in distress. “Wait, doesn’t that mean k-killed?” She felt goosebumps prickle along her skin beneath the armour, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. The other human had a similar reaction, mouth dropping wide open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AAARRGH nodded slowly behind Blinky’s shoulder. “Unfortunately. Kanjigar the Bravehearted, was his name. Turned to stone...and smashed.” He made a grinding motion with his upper hands, light blue ears poking downwards. “He was killed by Bular, a savage warrior from the war against dark magicks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire’s face fell. In the back of her head, she searched for any way to make things more positive. “Well, maybe this Bular guy got lucky, right?” Evan Steve could tell by her strained voice that she was drawing a short straw.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky seemed clueless to her distress, continuing on without much regret in his voice. “The evidence does not suggest that - Bular </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a formidable opponent.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great. So I’m gonna die.” Claire facepalmed into her hands. Her metal palms were cool against her forehead, almost soothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or not! This Kanjigar was probably just having a tough day!” Steve said, looking down at the armoured girl, who groaned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky shook his head rapidly “Highly doubtful, Kanjigar was arguably one of the best Trollhunters of this age.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But not</span>
  <em>
    <span> the</span>
  </em>
  <span> best, right?” He continued, genuinely trying to help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, the very best. Many songs and sagas have been written about him.” His eyes drifted, as if recalling a fond memory. The room lapsed into silence once more, the house’s white walls feeling way to bright for Claire’s mind to focus. She stared down at the coffee table, dejectedly looking at the numerous rings made from resting mugs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claire’s just worried that if this Bular could defeat Kanjigar…” Steve searched for the proper way to finish.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s going to happen to me?” She spoke softly, wistfully looking at her unperturbed little brother. She should really be putting him to bed soon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, with the proper training, I’m sure you’ll be a good opponent, in due time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And how long would this training take?” She asked, gesticulating with her hands in a turning motion. His eyes crossed comically as he counted something on three of his hands. “Hmmmmm...Decades?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Came out as a yelp from both of the teens, AAARRGH getting a surprised look on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How long does she have?” Steve was starting to get worried about Claire - he didn’t know her all too well, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to die!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One or two days.” Blinky’s hand making a seesaw movement, he grimaced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, once I can get this stupid thing off me, you are taking it right back!” She rose to her feet swiftly, stomping forward and pointing a finger into his rough chest, just between two chiselled lines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Miss Claire, the amulet cannot simply leave you. You are bonded for life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I don’t want to be, okay? I didn’t choose this!” She shouted, gaining an incredulous look from the well-spoken troll. Steve watched the whole thing unfold anxiously, shocked by Claire’s confidence</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The armour disappeared in a cloud of silvery smoke, clattering to the floor. Claire didn’t bother to pick it up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Miss Claire, we should begin your training immediately.” He pestered her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire walked away as everyone’s eyes followed her, leaning over and picking Enrique up. She balanced him on her hip before speaking a bit softer. “I already told you - I can’t do this! And besides, I have school tomorrow!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I assure you, I fail to see the relevance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pinched her nose, thin black eyebrows flowing pointing downwards. “Look, we’re fifteen - we have to stay home, do chores, and homework!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AAARRGH hit his head on the ceiling as he walked over to Steve, rubbing a hand on his aching horn. “Ow, cave too small.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t be out running around fighting this Bular guy!” out of the corner of her eye, she noticed small fingers pulling on the straps of her shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because I don’t want to fight a vicious troll - </span>
  <em>
    <span>why’d you think?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Behind their heated conversation, Steve was staring at AAARRGH, trying to memorize his shape, how he moved, what his horns looked like from different angles. The trolls were wondrous, unlike anything he’d ever had the opportunity to draw before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You might </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> get slayed, Miss Claire.” He kept persisting, also lowering his voice so as to not disturb the sleepy child. The way his two small eyes followed him was actually quite unsettling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Blinky - I don’t <em>wa</em></span>
  <span><em>nt</em> to die!” She harshly told him, lips pulled back in annoyance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughed, after a pause, almost jolly. “Goodness Gracious! Who </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The majority of Shakespeare’s protagonists,” Claire muttered beneath her breath. She bent over, picking up the amulet from the floor and holding it out to the tall blue troll. Somehow she managed to get down with the baby, having practiced maneuvering with a baby a lot over the past year.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can’t you take it back?” He only pushed it back to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The amulet called out to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Miss Claire. It chose you - it is your-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> She pushed a finger in front of his face, as a warning.“Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> say ‘Destiny’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Sacred obligation.” He spread his arms out, like a platter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or that,” Claire dragged a hand down her face, rocking the small human to keep him quiet. He had closed his eyes, and was now resting a head on her shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are now responsible for two worlds, human and troll alike.” He held up a finger to make a point. “If you do not keep the balance, evil trolls like Bular </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> wreak havoc in your life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re saying this Bular could hurt people?” Steve asked, standing up. AAARRGH nodded at him, prodding him in the chest. “Like you.” Steve gulped and visibly paled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not. Helping.” Blinky hissed out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s he talking about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, now that you have come into the full power of the Amulet of Daylight, Bular </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> seek you out, and you will face him, one way or another.” He reminded her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve walked over, coming to stand next to Claire. “Maybe what Claire needs is a little time to process - You laid a lot of stuff on us tonight.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘But mostly on Claire’,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he kept to himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky sighed, but he had to agree with the blond. She was only human, after all. “Very well, but we will return tomorrow, to begin your training!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve walked over to the door to help AAARRGH out, the creaking of the wooden frame becoming a background noise as Blinky tried to speak to her in a soothing manner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Miss Claire, If I may, Destiny is a gift. Some go their whole lives without it, existing in quiet desperation, never learning the truth that what feels like a burden pushing down on their shoulders is actually a sense of purpose that pushes them to greater heights.” He spread his arms out, speaking louder. “Never forget that fear is but the precursor to valor, and to strive and triumph in the face of fear is what it means to be a hero.” She looked down at Enrique, gingerly breathing in puffy breaths. Steve laughed awkwardly a while away.  “Don’t think, Miss Claire, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Become.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire contemplated for a moment. It didn’t seem like she really had a choice. But was this the action she’d craved in her life? As if, finally, after acting as many heroes across a stage, she had the chance to become one herself?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you at least consider?” Claire answered by fist bumping one of Blinky’s outstretched hands, nodding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She could deal with being a hero - It wasn’t ideal, but if it meant <em>protecting</em> people… She looked at the photo of her and Enrique, their blissful smiling faces. If it meant protecting</span>
  <em>
    <span> Enrique</span>
  </em>
  <span>, She’s do it.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, so I think the biggest diversion from Canon is that Steve and Jim's locker confrontation happens a few episodes earlier, but don't worry - Claire will get to punch a bully soon, it just won't be Steve! I was going to have this chapter have the play audition and the fight with Bular, but it ended up being too long so I'll post that after the next chapter, which will be a little dive into the life of Jim Lake.</p><p> </p><p>(Also, I don't care if in America it is referred to as  'Math'. It sounds so weiiird to me I'm gonna keep saying 'Maths')</p><p>Another thing, you may notice how I've changed some of the dialogue from the show - I was rewatching episodes to remember people's lines, but I found it boring to just copy down what they said so I tried to change it up a little. Plus, Claire and Steve are very different from Jim and Toby, so they're obviously going to say different things and have different reactions to scenarios. I was originally going to have Steve's dad be an absent father, like in the show, but then when I was writing I just liked the idea better of then having a healthy relationship - But don't worry, he still has a load of parental trauma, just you wait.</p><p>Next up : A look at Jim's view on things.</p><p>Please comment!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A New Changeling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Stricklander fulfills a promise he made to an old friend, which includes introducing a half-changeling boy to the world of magick.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter was really fun to write, and I had a lot of ideas as to how and why Jim was in the order, and this is what I've settled on. There may be a few things I haven't explained yet, but that is because they will be mentioned in future chapters :-)</p><p>Also, this is mainly flashbacks, and scenes that happen before 'Becoming'.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Arcadia Oaks, Nine Years Ago.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Stricklander - Or rather, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Walter Strickler,</span>
  </em>
  <span> as he was going by these days, rang the doorbell of a suburban house and waited patiently for a reply on their porch. It was a nice house, two storeys high and a wide foundation, with a sheltered porch outside the blue front door. The paint was old and peeling, revealing a black layer underneath since it had not been touched up in what looked like years. Above his head, spiderwebs stretched from beam to beam, like macabre lace. Cream curtains were pulled across the square windows on either side of the door, stopping him from peeking in, but he could hear someone walking about inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He straightened his tan blazer, pulling down the cuffs so that they were both even. Strickler had discovered a long time ago that if you were a man, in a nice, smart suit, you could get away with almost anything. His black leather shoes shone in the warm summer sunlight, and he started to regret wearing a woolen grey turtleneck when he started to sweat. An assortement of flowers and herbs grew rampantly in the garden, creating a nice, if chaotic smell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In a moment!” A woman called out from the other side of the door, and he took in a deep breath to mentally prepare himself. The door swung open inwards, revealing a messy looking home setting. Strickler couldn’t see much from his position, except stacked cardboard boxes next to a staircase, and at least five different stuffed animals scattered across the floor. The woman who opened the door had a tired expression on her face, deep circles etched beneath her eyes. She was tall, almost at eye level with him and had long ginger hair that fell over her shoulders, though it was greasy and half unbrushed. A white T-shirt and a pair of jeans were all she wore, and both were stained or splattered with some kind of food. He looked into her bright blue eyes as she pushed her glasses up her nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi there, can I help you?” She asked, confusion evident in her voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Oh Pale Lady, I really hope this works…’ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking down, he saw that she had bare feet, even though there were a pair of slip-ons right next to the door. Strickler chuckled. “Actually, I think I may be able to help</span>
  <em>
    <span> you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dr Lake,” He pulled out a card from his pocket, and handed it to her. “I’m Walter - From the Childcare Agency, you contacted us to find someone to look after your seven year old.” Her hand smelt of cleaning supplies and peppers as she reached out to take it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara read the card held up to her eyes with her dirt-encrusted fingernails, relief suddenly plastered on her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh - great! But I didn’t realise you’d be here today, I only hired you for tomorrow night,” She hit her forehead with a pale hand. “Drat - Did I give you the wrong date?” The doctor resigned to looking disappointed with herself, but before she could apologize, Strickler waved her off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I know you aren’t in need of my services until tomorrow - I’d just thought I’d pop around and meet you and your son, Jim, isn’t it?” He</span>
  <em>
    <span> knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> his name was Jim, but he didn’t want to seem too forward with the woman. Or reveal that he'd been spying on them for quite a while by this point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her face instantly lightened, and she leaned against the doorframe with a creak. “Wow, you agencies really do go the extra mile, huh?” She said with relief. “Why don’t you come in and have some tea? Jim’s just taking a nap upstairs at the moment.” Barbara turned and walked back into her house, making her way to the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That would be wonderful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once he shut the door behind himself, he took a sweeping look around. To his left was a low, round coffee table encircled by a sofa and an armchair, both facing a TV. The seating arrangements were made of the same light red fabric, rugged and worn around the edges, and the cushions lumpy. The kitchen was further back at the house, but with a retractable screen which allowed Strickler to watch her pour water from the kettle. Below him was a soft, cream carpet, which he took off his shoes to step on lightly.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Making his way to sit down, he dodged the random items on the floor, and sunk into the surprisingly comfortable armchair. Just above the chunky block of a TV was a picture of Barbara and a little boy, probably on the day of her graduation, judging by her clothing. Strickler knew Jim was seven, and in the photo he looked around that age, wearing a nice blue jumper with a huge smile on his face - the kind of wide, toothy grin that only kids can make. His black hair was unruly, sticking up and out of place in certain areas, much like his Father’s, from what Strickler could remember.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara laughed as she walked over with a tray, balancing a teapot and two mugs. “You know, I almost couldn’t believe it when I found a professional nanny at your low prices, but I just don’t like the idea of leaving Jim with someone inexperienced in childcare.” Her voice was stressed and tired, probably from the lack of help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He folded his hands whilst she poured the red tea, splashing some onto the handle of the mugs. “Well, I live nearby, so I don’t really need to charge the extra money in order to pay for gas or other travelling expenses - And I agree with your sentiment, I’ve met many other parents that feel the same way.” He was handed a ceramic mug with crude snails drawn on it, probably by a child.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh? Where do you live?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just over in Azusa.” Taking a sip, he almost spat the sour liquid out, but held it in, coughing. “My, that tea is delicious, what’s in it?” He squeaked out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How does someone ruin boiling leaves?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a berry combination, I think, but if I’m being honest I just liked how it smelled,” Barbara sunk into the sofa, taking a sip of her own, but seemingly enjoying the crude taste.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler put his hands up in mock surrender and let out a little laugh. “Well, no judgement here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was mid-afternoon, and she had clearly been in the middle of preparing a dinner, if the smell of spices and raw meat were anything to go by, wafting from the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, when I was reading your resume, I saw that you’ve looked after a lot of kids! I love my son, but I can’t imagine what it’s like looking after young children for your entire life!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah yes, the resume. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>fake</span>
  </em>
  <span> resume. With his order connections, it had been shockingly easy to make himself look like a qualified nanny, who just so happened to be the perfect distance and price for Barbara’s needs. He drummed his fingers on the armrest, feeling the soft fabric.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just enjoy it, that’s all.” Which was true, to an extent. He found the younger humans so curious and innocent, as if they were able to understand things others couldn’t. “Is there anything special I should know about Jim before tomorrow? Any emergency numbers to contact if I can’t get a hold of you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She spoke with a hint of sadness in her voice, the reminder that her husband could not be contacted becoming a weighing anchor in her heart that latched on. “Well, there’s really no one else except me, but if it’s a medical emergency, just take him to the hospital - I’ll be there anyway.” A thin hand ran through her light hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler continued to ask her questions, under the guise of being a good nanny, to put Barbara at ease with him. When he eventually left the household he felt quite good about himself - If all went to plan (And it would, his planning was impeccable), then within a few years, the order would have a new member.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>                                                                                ---------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Strickler,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know this is a large request, but it is of utmost importance. You once told me that you owed me a great deal, and it is imperative that you keep your promise of repaying.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As you know, I have a son, and a wife in the town of Arcadia Oaks (I will write the address on a second piece of paper, also within the envelope). However I never informed the order of them, for fear that they would do something to James - I do not know how other changelings would react to someone who is half human, and so I have tried to keep them away from the world of trolls.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So that I can keep up appearances with the order, I am expected to depart on a mission to a very dangerous trollish outpost, and I fear I will not be able to return.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If I am dead, you must watch over my son, and when he is older, introduce him to his heritage - he deserves to know. So far he has not shifted, and I do not know if he even has a troll form at all, but it is best not to take chances.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Protect him. Please, keep him safe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> - James Lake</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>                                                                                    ------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim’s room was small, with a wooden bed decorated with a blue duvet cover, and that covered by a fluffy grey blanket, both of which were wrapped around his body like a cocoon. Strickler had dragged a chair over from the toy - covered desk so that he could be next to the bed to read him a night time story.  Behind him was a filled bookshelf, but in the dim light of the lamp, he couldn't quite make out the titles. Huge posters of cars and dinosaurs were plastered on the walls, all at different angles and crinkled, as if put up clumsily by someone who couldn't reach up very high. The whole room smelled of lavendar - probably an air freshner Barbara had squirted around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt out of place - being a nanny meant that apparently wearing a suit would look too odd, so he was sat on the uncomfortable wooden chair in a woolen jumper and black jeans, though he still kept the leather shoes. He wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of </span>
  <em>
    <span>sneakers</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was now Strickler’s fifth time looking after the boy, putting him into bed after reading him a book about Perseus and Medusa, it's cover so damaged by time that it felt almost like sandpaper. Jim’s face was smushed into his pillow as he avidly listened to every word that dropped out in an English accent. But eventually, as Strickler closed the heavy, leather bound book, Jim began to tire - not before he got a glint of childish curiosity in his eyes though. Jim stifled a playful giggle.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhhh, Strickler? “ He asked in his high pitched, soft voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Jim?” He smiled at him, causing harsh lines to be drawn from his nose to the corners of his mouth. He saw the boy's cheeky smile hidden behind his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why’s your hair so big?” Jim pointed one hand at the huge, pompous grey quiff. He laughed as Strickler sighed, muttering,"Children...Very fashionable a few decades ago..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler ignored his question in favour of asking one of his own, folding his hands in his lap. “Jim, you should probably be getting to bed soon, but before you do, I’ve got some questions to ask you - it’ll be a fun little quiz, just to get your brain going.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim face lit up, and he sprang up in bed, flipping the duvet away.“Oh, ok! Can we do a quiz about pokemon? ‘Cause me an’ Tobes just found this super coo-” Strickler cut him off before he could get too carried away. He’d already had a half hour long speech from the boy earlier, something about pikashu? Pinachi? Either way, he was not prepared to have another speech. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N-not exactly, Young Atlas.” Jim shoulders sunk down, disappointed, before shrugging.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay then, but what d’you wanna talk about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You, of course! You’re such a quiet child, but it’s important for your development that you learn to be more sociable, to tell people about yourself.” Strickler sat up a little straighter. “So, is there anything,</span>
  <em>
    <span> odd</span>
  </em>
  <span>, about yourself?” He asked vaguely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim looked down at his lap sadly. “Not really…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler hadn’t meant to make him feel bad, so he tried again in a hopeful voice. “Anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>special</span>
  </em>
  <span> you can do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> His face brightened instantly, and for a moment he thought Jim might say</span>
  <em>
    <span> ‘ Actually yes, Sometimes I turn into a stony creature in a flash of green light - is that normal?’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>But what he actually said was :</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oooh, I can climb trees really well, but Mom said that it’s too dangerous!” Jim was smiling giddily, proud of himself, and slightly thinking that maybe if he told Strickler this it would mean next time he was looking after him it meant he would get to go climbing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler sighed. Obviously, this tactic was not achieving anything. He needed to first be absolutely sure that Jim had taken after his father’s trollish nature before he could tell him anything - imagine if he accidentally revealed the world of magic to a random human boy, all the chaos that would ensue!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>                                                          -----------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stricklander was at a last resort - It had been just over two months since he’d started looking after the child on certain evenings, and his vague questions had gotten him absolutely nowhere. Barbara was working another night shift, Arcadia turning to an icy winter with winds that rattled the windowpanes and hail stabbing into the roof like a million darts. Since he'd started looking after Jim, once the boy had gone to bed he would do a little cleaning - not noticeable to Barbara, but just little things like dusting a surface, or hoovering the carpet. Without her having to look after her son all the time, the house was starting to feel more mellow and comfortable, now familiar to Strickler. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head - he would not let himself get attached, as James did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The gaggletack felt heavy and cold in his gloved hand, sinister energy radiating off as he stood in the lounge, waiting for Jim to come back down. He looked it over as it laid in his leather clad fingers, his whole body screaming for him to get as far away from it as possible. The grey and mottled surface was bumpy and rough, holes from where nails would have gone, and little smudges of dirt that he’d never washed off. There was a flattened out engraving of words on the top edge, worn away over time so that it became simply a few lines that used to mean something. The horseshoe was very old, certainly older than Jim, but the older the gaggletack, the quicker the transformation that occurred.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If he had a brand new horseshoe, one that had never been used, he could touch it without feeling a thing and then spontaneously transform maybe a minute or so later. But the one he had with him worked instantaneously - he had begrudgingly tried it out earlier, feeling the crackling energy of his troll form wash over him as soon as he touched the unforgiving rusty metal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A stampede of little feet came rushing down the stairs, one of Jim’s hands holding onto the banister post as he swung around it and came rushing up to Strickler. “I’m in my pyjamas!” He said excitedly whilst jumping onto the sofa. “Can you tell me another story about Atlas, please?” Big, blue eyes looked up at him hopefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was still rather small and skinny, his little frame covered by a rocket-printed shirt and trousers. Round ears poked out from beneath his shaggy hair, and his gap-toothed grin was endearing. Then his eyes fell onto the object in his caretaker’s grip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lifted a thick black eyebrow. “Hey, what’s that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler crouched down on the floor to get to his eye level. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Young Atlas, is a very special object, of great importance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim narrowed his eyes suspiciously, pouting.“It looks like a horseshoe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, to some it is just a horseshoe, but to me, it’s something rather different.” Jim dubiously watched him, questioning the older man. “Would you like to hold it?” Strickler tried to smile warmly, but very few children were intrigued by old horseshoes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pointed a tiny finger at it, squirming away. “It looks dirty, what if it has germs?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t, I promise.” He really needed Jim to touch it, if only for a split second, just to confirm if he had a troll form - If Strickler was wasting his time at the Lake residence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The seven year old shook his head, strands of black hair thwipping around. “Then why are you wearing gloves-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler acted impulsively, stretching out his hand whilst Jim’s back was pressed up against the back of the sofa, and touching the gaggletack to his thin, uncovered wrist. There was a bright flash of neon green and yellow streaks of light, and when it cleared, the first thing he heard was a high-pitched scream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where Jim was sat was a wee blue creature, shaped mainly as a human, but with a few...extra additions. Two little horns poked out of now longer black hair like nubs, and below them were long, pointed ears, like an elf’s. They folded downwards, like a scared animal’s. He was overall a little bigger, a bit thicker in some parts, like his arms and hands, one of which was now down a finger. His black fingernails were not claw-shaped, but thick and tough in texture like sandpaper. Blue eyes, though wide with confusion, were still about the same, as was the shape of his face, although his hooked nose was more pronounced. Jim looked like a mish mash of troll and human, like a changeling between forms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler dropped the gaggletack to the floor, just in time for Jim to start screaming again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>                                                                  -----------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A few Years Later</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“By Tobes!” Jim was waving enthusiastically, holding a brand-new ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Gun Robot’</span>
  </em>
  <span> manga in his hand, a bandaid wrapped around the knuckle of his thumb. He had a pair of green shorts on, as well as a plain white T-shirt, and comical fuzzy socks with lemurs on them. Dimples curved into his cheeks as he smiled, bright blue eyes sparkling as he watched an old lady drag his best friend away down his driveway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Toby groaned, still wearing a cone-shaped hat strapped to his head. “But I don’t wanna go!” He whined to his Nanna, struggling to escape the wrinkled hand clamped on his thick wrist. He was short and wide, with gelled ginger hair and an unfortunate set of braces, dressed like a middle-aged man in tan trousers, a collared shirt, and a sweater vest. His big green eyes looked up at her, pleading.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The old lady smiled warmly. “Come on now, Toby-Pie, it’s getting late, and you can always see Jimmy tomorrow, how’s that sound? Hmmmm?” Toby sighed, and looked down at his feet. “I guess.” He mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll bring your new Pokemon cards tomorrow, right?” He called out to his friend, in a hopeful voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure!” Jim said back, starting to head back inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bye then! Happy Birthday, Jimbo!” Toby waved with one hand, the other one holding his Nanna’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler and Barbara were leaning against the kitchen counter, watching Jim say goodbye. He’d grown up, in the years that Strickler had watched him, and then the past year when he’d taught him after getting a position at the local school. She turned towards him, a mug of coffee in her hand. “Walt, thank you so much for coming - I know you’re not looking after Jim anymore, but it was nice of you to pop over.” Barbara looked tired - probably from all the activities that included running after her son, but was still happy, nonetheless. The smell of coffee was intoxicating, overloading his nose pleasantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughed. “Oh, it’s no trouble Barbara, and besides, whenever I’ve been teaching his class recently, he’s looked so excited to be turning eleven that I just couldn’t help myself from getting him a present!” He could still see the awed look on his round face after unwrapping the huge tome of greek myths - one from Strickler’s own collection.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How is he doing in school?” The ginger woman asked, watching her son close the front door. Her mug made a clinking sound as it was placed down on the granite counter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I only see him for history, but he seems quite happy hanging out with Toby - the two of them are almost inseparable!” Strickler had had a few close calls with Jim wanting to tell his best friend about his secret, but thankfully he’d eventually seen that it wouldn’t be a good idea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara looked as if she was about to say something, but then her phone started ringing. She groaned when she saw who it was. “Really? Today of all days? It’s the hospital, I’ve got to take this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “No worries, I’ll go keep Jim occupied.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though it was evening, it was still light out, the crickets chirping in the warmth. Barbara placed a hand on his arm before leaving to take the call in the back garden. Strickler smiled - it was a rather coincidental timing, giving him the perfect opportunity to have a conversation with the boy, since calls with the hospital could take up to forty minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where’s mom?” He asked bluntly, placing his manga on the coffee table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, she’s just outside, taking a call from the hospital.” Strickler said as he walked over, black leather shoes slapping down on the cream carpet with thumps. Thankfully, since becoming a teacher he'd been able to switch back to more professional looking clothes, even if the majority of people he interacted with were hyperactive eleven year olds. The boy looked a little dejected, but understood why she had to leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked down at his shuffling feet, flexing his toes. “Oh, okay.” Sadly, Jim was used to his mother having to spend so much of her time working. A heavy hand fell down on his shoulder with familiarity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Actually, Young Atlas, I wanted to have a little chat, about your-” He made his eyes glow since no one else was around, causing Jim to smile “-Abilities.” The pale boy squeezed his eyes shut in concentration, lips pressed together as if he’d eaten something sour, and when he opened them again the blue irises were glowing like lighthouse beams. Strickler ruffled his hair. It wasn’t the traditional way that a changeling’s eyes glowed, but it was still scary and inhuman enough. He still remembered the first time he'd done it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Is it working? Is it?" Slowly, like a flickering light bulb without much power left, his right eye began to spark unnaturally with an electric blue.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Strickler laughed at his attempt. "You're getting closer."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been practicing,” He noted with a hint of pride, eliciting a nod as Jim sat cross legged on a beanbag he’d been gifted earlier. It had red and blue scooters on it, Jim’s latest obsession. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was innocent, naive, only aware of the basic facts that Strickler had given him when he first shifted. Jim had been too young to fully understand how complex the world of magick was, and if Strickler was being honest, too scared to be able to stand up for himself. </span>
  <span>But now… </span>
  <em>
    <span>when he is older, introduce him to his heritage - he deserves to know. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He would have to tell him more, one way or another.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler took a deep breath, and spoke in a calming but steady voice. Outside, he could hear Barbara say something into her phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Us changelings have many gifts, Jim, but with our gifts come a great responsibility. And, sadly, many enemies.” He placed a hand on his shoulder, the slender digits engulfing him.“When I first told you what you were, I told you only the basics, but now you are old enough to know more of what your father asked me to tell you before he...left.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim’s eyes went sad at the mention of his absent father. “L-like what?” The smile from celebrating his birthday was gone, and now he looked worried.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There are trolls in the world - ones that cannot shift into a human form, and are confined to the shadows, since stepping into sunlight instantly turns them to solid stone. They are bigger than us, physically stronger too, and live underground in networks of caves undiscovered by humans.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim visibly swallowed, goosebumps appearing on his skin. He’d never heard of trolls that could not transform into humans. “Would they h-hurt us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler nodded. “Yes. They would hurt you. And your family, if they find out what you are.” He knew it was a low blow to use on a child, but Jim needed to understand it wasn’t just himself that could get hurt. “Which is why it’s important you begin learning to defend yourself against them, should they come after you, Young Atlas.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-are you going to teach me how to defend myself?” Now, Jim was looking eager at the prospect of learning how to fight, as if his changeling blood was urging him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler chuckled awkwardly, looking away. “....Not quite.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>                                                                        ------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <span>T</span>
    </em>
    <em>
      <span>he Present</span>
    </em>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Slow down, Little Gynt.” His trainer chided him, running to keep up through the thick trees after her student.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t, I have school in like, five minutes!” Jim was out of breath, sweat dripping from his brow as he ran ahead of her through the woods, faster in his bluer form. He’d grown into it since he was a little kid, horns now curving back and flicking upwards in black tips, limbs longer and meatier. His feet thumped down on the twigs and grass almost soundlessly. Tall trees were starting to clear, sunlight streaming onto his stony skin and casting shadows of leaves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In his troll form, he still wore human clothes, unlike most other changelings who had medieval - like garb such as kilts or tunics. Maybe because they’d been alive when those clothes were invented. He preferred sticking to a plain shirt and some jeans with leather holsters for his daggers, though he didn’t quite understand how he could suddenly be wearing them whenever he transformed. He just chalked it up to magick, as he did when other weird stuff happened to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The beeping of cars got louder, and he could almost see the concrete of the bridge going over the canal as he kept running, getting closer to their destination.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nomura grabbed his shoulder with a pink, clawed hand, and roughly yanked him backwards with a grunt, just as he got to the edge. “This is an important mission, Gynt.” She hissed at him, standing in front of Jim in her towering, shiny from like a barricade. She was a scary looking troll, all sharp edges and razors, with a long, pointed chin, and elegant black hair like a whip. Her legs bent in the opposite direction, and on her arms she had rocky elbow spurs, which if you asked Jim, were an absolute pain to get elbowed in the face with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim glared at her, knowing that despite her tough attitude, she wouldn’t actually hurt him.“Yeah, I sorta got that when you climbed through my window an hour ago to brief me.” He had been looking forward to cycling to school with Tobes, and he hadn’t even gotten the chance to make lunch for the both of them, what with being woken up by an inhuman entity crouching on his windowsill like a gargoyle. He may be used to how she could scale walls in a spider-like fashion, but that didn't mean it wouldn't scare him if she entered his room like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighed at his humour. “What if you go running into that canal and there’s a huge troll waiting for you? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hmmm</span>
  </em>
  <span>? What then?” Since they were still partially shaded by the trees, no one saw the two changelings lurking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We-” Jim started, a defensive snarl on his lips before she cut him off, leaning over to belittle him, make him feel smaller.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’d be dead - cut up like mincemeat.” Nomura made a swiping gesture with her hand to enunciate her point before turning around and stalking to the edge of the canal, slitted eyes sweeping the area. Little Gynt was not trained enough for missions, but no one else was available, and she disliked going somewhere with potential trolls alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes behind her back. “Fine, we’ll be slower.” Jim shook out his arms, loosening them for a potential fight. He’d never been up against a full troll before, but surely it couldn’t be stronger than the larger changelings he’d sparred with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Follow me.” She commanded, not waiting for an answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nomura slid down the side of the canal, one finger splayed on the wall for balance whilst her hooves soundlessly carried her down. Jim followed in the same position, bare feet feeling each bump and spike, though without pain because of his thick skin. He heard a scraping sound as Nomura removed her glowing blades from their sheaths, loosely holding them at her sides. Slowly, she crept round the corner of the pillar holding up the bridge, checking for someone to be waiting. The muscles in her backwards legs untensed themselves, and she beckoned Jim to come forward, into the shadows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both stared at the pile of smashed rocks for a second before Jim spoke up dubiously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s...the Trollhunter?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nomura cackled, grinning with needle-like sharp teeth in her wide mouth. “It used to be, before Bular got in his way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim shuddered at the mere mention of the name. He’d never met the full-blooded troll he and Nomura worked for, but judging by the gruesome stories, he didn’t want to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both descended on the pile, digging through it to look for the amulet, but even when they’d disrupted it completely, it was nowhere to be found.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Is...Is there any chance this maybe</span>
  <em>
    <span> isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> the trollhunter?” He asked timidly. The shade was cooling, but his voice echoed creepily beneath the bridge. Up above, a car drove over them, unaware of what happened beneath them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nomura growled in annoyance, not at him, but at the situation. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid Bular</span>
  </em>
  <span>...This is definitely the Trollhunter, but it would appear we’re too late.” She stabbed an orange blade into the ground, and it sunk in like butter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim chuckled nervously. “You sure it’s a good idea to go around bad mouthing our boss?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only when he screws up - If he had just told us as soon as he killed the hunter that his amulet was laying in the sunlight, we could have gotten here before any of the trolls did.” She spat on the remains.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what do you mean? How do you know the trolls were here - wouldn’t they be stopped by the daylight?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hummed, thinking, before speaking up in her raspy voice. “Perhaps they had a covering of some sort - but that’s not the matter here.” “Evidently, some other troll has taken the Amulet back to the Heartstone to pick a new Hunter, which means now we have to kill </span>
  <em>
    <span>another</span>
  </em>
  <span> Trollhunter!” She sighed in defeat, a great light sparking as she shifted back into her human form.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nomura curled her hand into a fist. “It doesn’t matter, whether they have the amulet or not, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we </span>
  </em>
  <span>still have Killahead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you know Strickler mentions that a lot too, what does that old bridge even do, anyways?” Jim asked earnestly, also switching back into his fleshier look. He felt lighter, without the weight of his daggers strapped to his thighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nomura cursed in her head, of course, leave it up to Strickler to leave out telling the boy all the important stuff. But she could see why - Gynt was too caring, too...</span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If he knew what they were</span>
  <em>
    <span> really</span>
  </em>
  <span> planning, he’d leave them. And then, Nomura would have to hunt him down and kill him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d never tell anyone, but begrudgingly, she could admit that she did not wish to harm the youngling.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She dodged the question. “Run off to school then, Little Gynt, and don’t forget to come to the museum tonight for another session - your form is beginning to get sloppy.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>....Bet you never expected Strickler to start his teaching career as a nanny, did you.</p><p>In the show, they never explain why such a high ranking member of the order is working as a high school principle, so in this fic Strickler only starts teaching so that he can keep an eye on Jim as a child, but when they start rebuilding the bridge in Arcadia museum, he realises that he should keep the teaching job so he can stay in Arcadia to oversee the construction.</p><p>Also, my fist plan for this chapter :</p><p>Strickler : Hmmmm...I need to find out if this child is a changeling...</p><p>Strickler : [yeets horseshoe at child and hopes for the best]</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Becoming the Trollhunter, Part Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The school play auditions don't go as planned, Jim is proved right, and Claire squares up against Bular.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A warning :</p><p>If anyone gets quite triggered by someone lashing out angrily, there is a scene in here where someone does that.<br/>If you want to keep reading this story, but want to skip this part, I'm going to put a row of  +++++++ At the end and beginning of the scene.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Red juice squirted out onto the chopping board as Claire brought down the knife, slicing the pepper into thin chunks. Her Papí was stood next to her in the kitchen, making thick </span>
  <em>
    <span>shlink</span>
  </em>
  <span> noises as his own large knife sunk into a red onion like it was nothing. Somehow, he was unbothered by the acrid smell, but Claire had to wipe her eyes so that they did not drip tears onto the food. Onions were vile little balls of layers. At least in Claire’s opinion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was just the two of them in the kitchen, alone in the early hours before school. Outside the kitchen window, the sky was a blend of pink, orange and blue, like melted ice cream, the sun a warm slice of banana just peeking over the horizon of her backyard fence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wiped an arm over his brow, squinting with his eyes. “Well, I think that’s enough for tonight, mija, put it in the refrigerator, would you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, Papí,” She took the sliced vegetables from him, putting them in a container, and then in the fridge. It’s cool blast of air woke her up a little bit more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every morning, her father would prepare anything that needed to be chopped up for dinner and stick it in the fridge, so that when he came back from work it would take less time to cook a meal. Claire usually wasn’t up early enough to help him, but with the...<em>meeting,</em> last night, she hadn’t wanted to stay asleep any longer than necessary. Javier hummed as he wiped the kitchen counter, a jumpy, high-pitched tune.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her dreams had been haunted by a blurry, trollish shape endlessly chasing her, trying to take the amulet. Endlessly running through a maze of stone, with no escape. When she did wake up, it was to harsh breaths forcing their way through her mouth, heart punching at her ribcage. The shadows in the corners seemed too long, too dark. Everytime the house creaked, or a tree branch outside shook, she jumped, eyes darting towards the window as if something were about to appear on the other side of the glass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Javier stopped humming, walking over and putting a hand on her shoulder as she leaned on the counter. Claire’s eyes glassily stared off into space. “You know, I don’t have too much work today so I could probably drop you off at school if you want?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “No, it’s fine - I like the exercise.” Claire picked up the</span>
  <em>
    <span> Romeo and Juliet</span>
  </em>
  <span> script she left on the table, skipping to the lines she didn’t know very well. She mouthed them, playing the sounds of the words in her head. It was peaceful, just being within the same space as him, nothing else to distract her except a few birds chirping outside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watched his daughter yawn wide, her cute, round face stretching just like it had when she was a baby. “Heh. Just like your mother, so efficient.” He noticed Claire’s poorly hidden, disgruntled look. Javier grinned, mussing her hair. “But not quite as strict as her, eh?” Claire smiled in reply, pushing his hand out of her hair playfully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His wife walked down the stairs with perfectly timed steps, coming into the kitchen with their adopted son. The small eyes widened and he let out a small giggle at the sight of his father. “Javier, Could you take Enrique for a minute?” Ophelia scarcely waited for an answer, pulling Enrique’s hands from clinging her shirt and passing him onto her husband.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Javier reciprocated to Enrique’s grabby hands with glee, pulling a funny face that involved crossed eyes and a poking tongue. “Of course, my little knight in shining armour!” Enrique giggled, touching the spiky remains of his father’s goatee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire’s mom stretched her aching arms beneath her purple sweater, eyes falling on her daughter as she leaned against the table, reading a printed script. “Thanks, I just need to read these plans from the committee - Claire, Honey, <em>what</em> are you wearing?” She posed with a hand on her hip, disapproval in her gaze. Her lips were wrinkled together in distaste.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clothing, Mother.” Claire dryly replied, eyes not leaving the script. She had on an all-in-one, a floral print enclosing her in a connected shirt and shorts, tied around the waist with an orange bow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t go to school in ripped tights - you have an image, you know!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘More like you have an image.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire didn’t bother talking back, knowing it would get her nowhere. She slapped the script down on the table harder than needed, raising her hands in surrender. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I get it - I’ll go change.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ophelia sighed, brushing her hair across her forehead. “Thanks, Claire.” If Ophelia's hair were a few inches longer, she would be a splitting image of her daughter. She sadly thought that that was probably the reason why Claire kept her hair so long.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The whole way up to her room, Claire muttered about all the ways Ophelia would have gotten stabbed were she in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hamlet</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Even without her boots on, she managed to stomp up the stairs menacingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she came back downstairs, in dark blue jeans, her Papí was already gone - Enrique too, since he’d probably dropped him off at the nursery. On the counter there was a paper bag, a pink post-it-note attached with a doodle of a heart. Claire smiled at it before placing it in her bag along with some textbooks, and the script for the play.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her mom looked down at her silver watch, impatiently tapping her foot on the rug. “You’ve got to go soon, Claire, come on,” With her hands she beckoned Claire to the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The teenage daughter sidled over, making that face where you kinda grimace with your mouth - you know, the face you made when you wanted to ask your parents something they’d probably disagree to? “Actually, Mom, I was just wondering if maybe, you know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>If</span>
  </em>
  <span> I get the part in the school play, do you think you could come and watch it?” There was a shiny hope in her brown eyes as she smiled up politely. Yet Ophelia’s eyes didn’t leave her wrist, where she was buttoning the cuff of her shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighed, making a pained expression, eyes closing for a few seconds. “Claire, I - You know I want to support you, Honey, but I might have more important things to do.” She reached out and swept Claire’s bangs to the side. “And besides, do you really think doing the play is a good idea? Studying for your upcoming Spanish test should be more important!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smile slipped from Claire’s face. “I-I’ll make it work.” She wound her arms around herself, like a shield.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, but one slip in your grades, and I’m pulling you straight out, understand?” A finger was shoved in front of her daughter’s face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire’s eyebrows furrowed together, lips scrunching in annoyance. Her petite nose turned upwards. “But Mom-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to repeat myself, Claire.” She spoke firmly, hands on her hips. “Now go to school.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire could tell when she wasn’t going to get her way. She swung her bag over her shoulder dejectedly, letting out a deep breath.“I - Okay. Bye then, love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ophelia’s red lips quirked up slightly in the same ways that Claire’s did. “I love you too, I just want to make sure you’re doing the right thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire picked up her black helmet, securing it on her head before leaving. “I know, Mom.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she did - but sometimes she couldn’t help but be angry at how her mom seemed to look at the bigger picture of her life, brushing away Claire’s personal interests like someone would  deweed a garden. The long bike ride to school in silence only made her think more about what her mom said, almost considering dropping the play in favour of listening to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>                                                                              -----------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Teras prickled at the edges of Claire’s brown eyes as she stood in the empty school courtyard. Late again</span>
  <em>
    <span>.’C’mon now, don’t cry,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her inner monologue voiced, annoyed. One of her feet was standing in a small puddle from last night’s storm, where the concrete wasn’t completely even. Sine everyone else was already at homeroom, or at the auditions, it was almost completely silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pushed her long nails into the flesh of her palms as if physical pain might make the waterworks hold off a little while. Her mother’s words rang in her ears on a loop, repeating what she’d said in overlapping harmonies of an empty voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I don’t have time, Claire’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The straps of her bag weighed down upon her shoulders, like her workload was literally holding her down.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Your studying should always come before socialising, Claire’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rows upon rows of blue lockers stretched out in front of her in an endless metallic sea, the only sound being the chirping birds. Each squawk and whistle was like a needle being shoved down her ear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘What kind of example are you setting for Enrique, Claire?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She felt her lips tug downwards, a warm liquid running down her face till it dropped of the edge of her chin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Drama is not a real career, Claire!’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A flutter as a strand of her hair flew across her face, touching closed eyelids. The wind picked up again, whispering over her body that tingled with goosebumps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘If you do not do well, you will fail, Claire.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Underneath her skin, a horrid, worming energy began to spread. Like blood from an open wound, it yearned to spurt out and spray everywhere.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘You dress like an uneducated punk, Claire’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The muscles in her legs tensed, that strange electric energy winding its way over her bones.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Put on something proper, Claire.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was too much - an explosion started on the inside, retching its way out of her with a sickening strength and adrenaline. She felt her bag slip off from her shoulders, dropping onto the hard floor with a thump.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I don’t care.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clai-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AAAAAARRRRHHH!!!!!!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire shouted in a hoarse, breaking voice, kicking the bottom locker with one heavy-booted foot. The metal vibrated, a clanging sound echoing around the courtyard as a spiking pain bloomed in her toes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sniffling back a tear, she did it again, ramming it into the blueness unforgivingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything else seemed to slip away - the noises, the knowledge that she should be going to the auditions soon, even the grey floor beneath her feet. It all seemed trivial, like it wasn’t quite registering with her brain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing else was there, except the weight of the amulet in her pocket, and the pain that kept pulsing from her foot, and the heavy rises and downfalls of her chest. She felt her fists uncurl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimly, a voice registered behind her. The anger seemed to slip away like rocks toppling off a cliff, breaths coping easier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-Aire, hey, are you okay?” A warm hand tentatively touched her shoulder. She world around, face to face with Steve. She wasn’t even really surprised - perhaps the amulet came with a tall blond that consistently popped up when you were least expecting him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her voice was a bit scratchy. “Steve? What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He seemed confused, but not really put off by the outburst he’d just witnessed. “....In school?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire grunted. “No - I, I thought I told you to leave me alone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>            ++++++++++++++</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So.” Steve was staring out her doorway, at his soaked vespa.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah.” She finished for him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Trolls are real?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Apparently.” Claire took another look at the Amulet in her hand.“Look, just...Pretend this never happened, okay? Just go home, and don’t talk to me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What? But-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just go, Steve.” Claire shut the door on him, stalking away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve stepped closer to her, red trainers sloshing through a puddle. He didn’t have any gel in his hair, and Claire thought it looked nicer. Softer. “Yeah, you did, but you - you can’t just expect a guy to learn that</span>
  <em>
    <span> freaking trolls</span>
  </em>
  <span> are real, and then act like nothing happened!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Watch me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead, Steve was watching how a blue light seemed to glow from behind her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> From above her shoulder, the amulet hovered in the air, out of her sight. He assumed it must have left her pocket. It’s trollish design seemed to stare sinisterly at Steve. He backed away, putting up his hands placatingly. “W-why are you putting on your armour, Claire?” For all he knew, she was about to beat him up with its aid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not!” She said, mainly confused rather than irritated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell <em>that</em> to the glowy floating Amulet!” It zoomed down to her chest as if called, creating a ticking sound before emanating a growing silvery light.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire just about looked ready to kick something again. “Oh no….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We gotta get you outta sight!” Steve yanked on the collar of her jacket, dragging her through the door to the changing rooms just as the metal plates manifested themselves all over her body in a fluid manner. She stumbled backwards, arms wildly circling around to balance herself and yet inevitably falling on her backside with a harsh </span>
  <em>
    <span>clang</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Thankfully no one was in there to see the spectacular show.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She picked herself up, harder now that she was weighed down. “Now of all times?” A sweaty stench infiltrated her senses. “Oh, so this is what the boys’ changing rooms are like.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s happenning?” No one else seemed to be there, but he spoke in a harsh whisper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How am I supposed to know? I’ve only had this stupid thing for like, two days!” Claire snapped back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you take it off-” Steve was interrupted by the door swinging inwards a few meters away from them, their silhouette outlined in the misted glass panes. They both froze for a moment before scuttling between rows of benches and red lockers. The door clicked behind someone, who’s light steps walked a few paces. Steve stepped on a satchel that was discarded on the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claire?” Jim called out, dubiously. Steve’s hand flew to his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes widened.“Shit.” She turned to Steve, who had his back pressed up against the locker. Claire was frozen in place, trying not to move lest she create noise with her armour.  “Stall him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stall him? How?” He squeaked out as Jim continued to walk around, looking for something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She threw her hands up in the air. “I don’t know! Just don’t let him see me like this!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He scoffed. “What happened to not wanting my help?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, Fine, you can stick around - Stop him!” His footsteps were getting closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve rolled his eyes and loosened his shoulders, stepping out of their hiding spot and bumping right into him. Jim froze in place. “Lake.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He chuckled nervously. “Oh. Hi Steve.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve let a sly grin overtake his face, crossing his arms over his wide chest and leaning against the dull, grey wall. “Why d’you call for Claire here? This is the boys’ changing room. Or were you two planning on meeting up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire snarled at his joke, though refrained from doing anything else..</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim seemed oblivious to what Steve was implying, still searching with his eyes around the large room. “I-I thought I saw…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thought what?” Steve towered above him, trying to block the way to Claire..</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Doesn’t matter. I’ve gotta get my bag though,” Before Steve could stop him, Jim dodged around him, walking straight into Claire with a bang against metal. Steve held his breath as they both stared at each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim’s mouth dropped open, his blue eyes widening in shock. The armour seemed so out of place on Claire’s body, and yet also like a perfect fit. Like it made more sense for her to wear magical metal rather than a miniskirt. He stared at her, trying to create words, but failing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire laughed, sounding forced. “Ummm, Hi Jim, I was- I was just, uh…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve came to the rescue, standing next to Claire. Their size difference was almost comical.  “Just getting ready for the school play auditions!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“P-play?” Jim croaked out in disbelief. His body still held itself in its skittish posture.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! Exactly!” “‘Cause, y’know, Juliet’s such a badass…” Claire trailed off, gesticulating with her hands. Jim flinched each time she moved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He chuckled.“Of course, yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> why you have glowing armour.” He raised a thick black eyebrow. “W-where did you get it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dead troll.” Steve said at the same time as Claire said “Ebay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glared at him with daggers in her eyes, making him feel smaller than her. “Yeah - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ha ha..</span>
  </em>
  <span>.So funny,</span>
  <em>
    <span> Steve.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” His name was hissed out through grinding teeth, slapping him on the shoulder with twice as much force as needed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim almost tripped over the bench, steadying himself before he started to back out. He had a panicked look in his eyes, looking from place to place anxiously. “I’d better get to the...uh rehearsals then, right? Don’t want to miss it!” He turned tail and sprinted away, almost as if he was scared of something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve sighed, leaning against a red locker, inspecting his fingernails.“Like I said yesterday : </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wimp</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire elbowed him in response, actually hurting since the elbow spurs were quite sharp. “You know what Steve? Why don’t we have a deal?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A deal?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah - You can ask me anything you like about last night, if,” A grin like a cheshire cat curled over her face.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> apologize to Jim and </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>try to intimidate him again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve looked flabbergasted, frowning. “I wasn’t trying to intimidate him - I was just joking!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glared at him once more, a flat expression on her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tipped his head back and groaned, wiping a hand over his face. “Fine, I’ll go say sorry to Lake!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire looked to a wall, at an old and spider web covered clock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She started trying to yank the amulet off. “I need to get to the auditions - but I can’t take it off!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve tilted his head to the side, grabbing her arm to stop her from possibly damaging it. The two troll dudes </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> made it sound quite important. “Then don’t - wouldn’t a set of super cool armour</span>
  <em>
    <span> help</span>
  </em>
  <span> you?” He pointed out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>                                                                                                      --------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d seen the Amulet in Claire’s bag! (Although what was most surprising was that Steve seemed unfazed by it - he probably thought it was just a costume) Were Steve and Claire </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends?</span>
  </em>
  <span> They hadn’t seemed like it the day before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it, though. Because on one hand, this meant that Claire was now technically his enemy, it meant she was in danger, and it meant that she had a hefty price on her head for any changeling looking to kill her.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But on the other hand…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire was</span>
  <em>
    <span> human</span>
  </em>
  <span> - the one thing that Jim had been told trolls hated almost as much as they despised changelings. There’d be no way that they would accept her as their best fighter, their leader. That meant, if Claire wasn’t allied with the trolls- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-What if she could work for us? Think about it, Strickler - we’d have the Trollhunter on our side! We wouldn’t have to kill her to get the amulet!” He gesticulated wildly with his hands, pacing in front of Strickler’s desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler sighed heavily, frowning.“Young Atlas, that would never work! Regardless of whether she is accepted by the trolls or not, she is still our sworn enemy.” He flipped over a piece of paper, writing something with red ink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim stopped, staring at him in disbelief. His hands dropped to his sides. “What - Does this mean you’d kill your own student?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler stopped what he was writing. He placed his fountain pen on the wooden top, folding his fingers with each other to make a triangle with his hands. Yes - of course Strickler would kill her, if necessary. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> that amulet, and if one untrained human girl had to die for it, well-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-so be it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he also knew that Jim would disagree, probably taking some moral high ground which would lead him to leaving the order. And leaving the order meant leaving </span>
  <em>
    <span>safety.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He answered back, perhaps a tad too late. “Of course I won’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> her - Just observe her for some way that we can get the Amulet into our possession.” Speaking slowly, Strickler enunciated his words in a stern manner. He smiled warmly at the boy. “I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely</span>
  </em>
  <span> heartless, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim seemed relieved. His shoulders sagged down, and he plonked down on a stool. “Yeah, I-I’m sorry. I know you only want to protect the rest of the changelings.” Without looking up, his fingers played with the strings of his hoodie, one longer than the other. Strickler repressed the urge to lean over and fix it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly, Jim. Which is why I need</span>
  <em>
    <span> you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do something important,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He raised an eyebrow, looking over with cobalt eyes.“Like what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know her, don’t you? Get to know her better, keeping a close eye on her, if you will.” Strickler said this as if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> seen Jim staring dopey-eyed at her every history lesson. “We  still need to know if she will be dangerous or not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘We need to know how to kill her…’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim nodded with enthusiasm. “I can do that, but I don’t have many classes with her…” He trailed off, staring at the grey carpet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A crafty smile split his aged face. “Well, she’s into drama, isn’t she?” He glowed his eyes. “Why don’t you go participate in the rehearsals - they’ll be over soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>                                                          --------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The audience clapped at the end of Jim’s monologue, and he gave an awkward bow before waving and jogging offstage. He looked surprised to see Claire behind the curtains, still in her silvery glory. “Oh, hey Claire, good to see you’re really, uh, rocking that armour!” It was phrased more like a question, his eyes tracing all over the blue patterns. He tried to ignore Steve’s hulking presence at her side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A blush filled her cheeks.“Yeah - your audition was great by the way!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah thanks - you know, I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> like Shakespeare.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who’s Shakespeare?” Steve asked with confusion, but both Claire and Jim ignored his question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never would have guessed! See you later then, Jim.” She waved at him, watching how he seemed to edge around her before leaving</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh,  b-break a leg, Claire!” Jim smiled sheepishly at her, waving before he turned and went towards the dressing rooms. Claire gestured at him, a meaningful expression on her face as she glared up at Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve harrumphed, throwing his hands up in the air in annoyance. “Actually, wait, Lake.” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “I, uh...I just wanted to say that I’m - that I’m sorry. About yesterday.” He found that he could not make eye contact with the smaller boy, instead staring with interest at the black stage floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim considered what he was saying, giving a curt nod in return. Steve supposed it was a forgiveness of sorts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he walked away, Steve whispered into her ear. “You know he only auditioned cause he likes you, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stuff it, Steve.” She said with a roll of her eyes, but it was playful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire took a deep breath, steadying herself. The sounds of her armour clinking as she walked out from behind the drooping curtain served as a way of grounding herself. Warmth spread across her chest, the amulet trying to give a semblance of reassurance to her - Claire wondered idly whether it might have a consciousness of sorts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Miss Janeth was scribbling something on her clipboard, unaware of the magical armour in front of her, until Eli let out a loud gasp, knocking into his teacher with a corner of his robust cardboard costume.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her pink-painted mouth dropped unhinged. Miss Janeth’s eyes widened as she took in Claire’s ‘Costume’.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A hand flew to her chest. “My, Claire! What part are you trying out for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire laughed, meeting Jim’s eyes for a split second in the audience. He gave her a little wave. “Juliet?” She said, as if questioning her own audition. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Steve face palm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” The floorboards groaned beneath her weight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tried to stand up a little straighter, meeting the eyes of her teacher confidently. “Yes, I was just, well, experimenting with the style a bit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Miss Janeth made a scribble on her board, dubiously looking at her over the tops of her thick glasses. “I see, well, go on then - we’re all ears!” She was actually quite intrigued to see what Claire would bring to the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire was about to start one of Juliet’s lines, her mouth making the shape, but nothing came out. A brief flutter of panic panged in her chest. Her mind was empty, completely devoid of the script she was sure she’d memorised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Oh crap oh crap oh crap!’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tried to take deep, calming breaths. Her eyes darted around the theatre looking for inspiration of some kind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘What do I do?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She plucked the first thing that came to mind, speaking without really thinking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Destiny is…” She looked over, where Steve gave her a thumbs up, trying to edge her on. Claire refocused her sights on the audience, stepping forwards like a knight. “Destiny is...A gift. Some go their entire lives living an existence of quiet desperation, never learning that what </span>
  <em>
    <span>feels</span>
  </em>
  <span> as though a burden pushing down on their shoulders, is actually the sense of</span>
  <em>
    <span> purpose </span>
  </em>
  <span>that pushes us to greater heights.” Claire curled her hand into a fist, pumping it in the air. “Never forget that to</span>
  <em>
    <span> strive </span>
  </em>
  <span>and to</span>
  <em>
    <span> triumph</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the face of fear is what it takes to be a hero. Don’t think - Become.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a beat of silence, and for a moment, Claire thought she’d messed it all up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thunderous claps filled the air suddenly, louder than Jim’s audition got. Miss Janeth even stood up, and Jim seemed to breathe out a sigh of relief. With a plotting grin on her face, the teacher started to scribble things down at an alarming pace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim walked over from his seat, lips curled upwards with small dimples carved at their corners. “Claire, that-that was really good!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crouching down on the edge of the stage, the armour clicked together. “Really?” She looked into his sparkling blue eyes in disbelief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughed genuinely. “Yeah!” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>                                             --------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, how long has this stuff been happening?” Steve had walked to school that morning, so Claire pushed her bike at her side as they kept pace, heading towards her house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Literally like, two days.” Her tyres sped through a puddle, splashing brown water from the pavement and onto her calves. They were walking down a backstreet of the town, where no one else really walked, and cracks zigzagged through the concrete. Tens of colourful posters were  layered on top of each other on a wall, all of them displaying in neon designs bands that weren’t playing anymore. It looked sad, like a melted wall of memories.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woah.” He scratched his chin. “So can you do anything else cool, like fire laser beams like Gun Robot does?” Claire chuckled, replying back sarcastically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gun Robot has a super-suit made by Dr Techno - I have a rude glowing hunk of metal, Steve.” As she said this, she gestured just above her heart,, aware of said hunk sitting in her pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He got an excited look on his face, displaying a gap-toothed smile. “Wait, you’ve read the Gun Robot manga?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire was just glad they’d stopped talking about trolls.“Of course, I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> they decided to cut Techno from the movies, he was like, my favourite character!” She ranted, remembering how she’d watched the latest one with Mary and Darci. (Who, Claire had been avoiding all day, rather successfully.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve gesticulated with his hands, turning his head so that he could look at her better.“He’s mine too! Though I mainly just read it for the art,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You like art?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shit. He’d sorta let that slip out there, hadn’t he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ran a finger through his hair, looking away and blushing from embarrassment. “Wha-No! No, I just meant, “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire laughed loudly, following him as they exited the street and got onto one with blockades, flashing orange lights like there was a construction going on. “Chill, Steve, you don’t have to be the big, tough guy all the time, you know. So why’d you like the art?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve didn’t usually talk to other people about his art - usually, they didn’t care. But Claire seemed genuinely interested, her brown eyes leveled at him, awaiting a response. “Well, I guess he just has a really blocky style, with sharp lines and bold colours, like I think it’s just more expressive, more lively.” He rambled out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tipped her head back and stared up at the dimming sky. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I am so thankful that you like art,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve actually stopped, a shadow falling on the lower half of his face. “Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked at him as if it were obvious, a smirk on her face.“‘Cause otherwise I’d be descending upon the</span>
  <em>
    <span> world of trolls </span>
  </em>
  <span>with a philistine!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve took a while to respond, still standing in the light of a flickering streetlamp.“...Is that a rock, or something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Claire could answer, a loud roar, like a violent animal punched into their ears. It echoed off the brick walls. Everything else went silent - no birds or rustling leaves, as if even nature could tell something was amiss. Nothing moved in the whole street, except for the flashing orange lights signaling streetwork.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both froze, holding their breaths. Goosebumps prickled on Steve’s arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Immediately, a huge, towering monster of greys, blacks and reds lumbered into the end of the street, pounding his sharp fists into the ground and roaring. He was all sharp edges and jagged rock, a leather belt decorated with skull and a plume of knotted black hair overflowing from his horns. Both Claire and Steve screamed, jogging backwards, her bike forgotten on the ground with a clang of steel falling to the ground</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trollhunter, Merlin’s creation - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gunmar’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> bane!” His voice sounded like dry gravel being rolled beneath a boulder, huge yellow tusks poking from his lips. He reached out with a hand from the shadows, hissing when the sunlight made it shine and crackle. In anger, he brought his rocky fist down on the roof of a blue car, crumpling it like a napkin. It was the most fear Claire had ever felt in her life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>'Shit. I'm going to die by MASSIVE FUCKING TROLL!'</em> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire, still running away, shouted. “Steve, I think the sunlight hurt it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And?” He said back in a high-pitched voice, following her around the corner. Bular scared him too, almost as much as the time when-</span>
</p><p><br/>"AAAAUUUUGGGHHH!"</p><p>
  <span>Bular growled as they disappeared from sight, deciding that if they could not see him, they could at least hear him. “Surrender the amulet and I will give you a speedy death!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bular's way of delivering his line had tempted neither of them to surrender. The both of them were out of breath, skidding to a halt behind a parked truck. Claire sat behind one of the huge wheels, fumbling for the amulet in her pocket. With his hands on his knees, Steve watched the shadows lengthen, the sun dipping further down. In the reflection of a darkened shop window, he could see the troll creeping along the road. Tapping her shoulder, he hastily pointed this out to Claire, who let out a little gasp of fright. </span>
  <span>What little light was still there bounced off the multi-coloured hairclips in her messy hair, sparkling in her silver piercings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sound of Bular loping closer to them made their hearts beat faster, each time his feet crashed down they made cracks appear in the tarmac. Like it was nothing but splintering wood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire started whispering, rambling in a hushed tone. “Daylight is mine to command ! I’m c<em>ommanding here</em> - I’m the command-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> A crumpling and creaking of metal interrupted her from behind the truck, presumably from being crushed in his humongous hands. Steve yelped, hands covering his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The truck behind them rumbled, shaking as it was lifted overhead. Oil dropped onto the floor like rain. Bular held it above him like a log, chucking it to the side with little effort. It crashed into a lamppost, setting off a ringing alarm that was like elevator music leading them to impending doom. Now with his face snarling at them, They had a better view.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thick, blocky horns curled around his face like sideburns, one of them shorter than the other like it had been chipped away at. His eyes sparked an ominous red from beneath his brows, spilling crimson light over his cheekbones like blood. When he snarled, his teeth became more pronounced, so yellow they were almost golden. But regardless of their dental integrity, those canines were definitely good enough to rip them to shreds. “Centuries of trollhunters, and I will have killed two in almost as many days!” He laughed maniacally, leering.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire stared up at him in horror, but snapped out of her daze. Steve’s shirt was tight in her grip as she dragged him away, sprinting on shaky legs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh no he’s good at math!” He noted, a little out of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In Claire’s palm, she still had the warm amulet, which stubbornly refused to lend her a hand - or, rather, lend her a suit of armour. Snarls echoed around her as she kept running without looking back, the smell of exhaust filling her nose. Boots slapped down on the pavement so harshly that vibrations went up her legs. The sky was getting darker, dark enough that the killer troll was no longer stopped by any daylight.</span>
  <em>
    <span> ‘I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t-’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Head down Delancey!” Steve shouted from behind her, panting. Bular almost latched onto him with a clawed hand, missing by an inch. He felt the air move on his neck as he dodged it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire was tugging so hard on Steve’s sleeve that she felt it rip, so she grabbed onto his hand instead, dragging him with her down a slim space between buildings. His hand was much bigger than hers, clumsily grappling back with a calloused palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Behind Stuart electronics!” She ordered him, still not letting go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve almost pulled back on her, fingers loosening from her grasp. Brown eyes darted in panic “I-I don’t know if I can fit, Clai-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She snarled at him, pulling him harder. “JUST TRY!” Her eyes were volatile and firm, her grip iron-like.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bular roared, clawing and scrabbling at the two buildings, but unable to get to them. They inched sideways down the crack, the brick walls seeming like they were narrowing even more, but it was probably just fear. Vibrations ricocheted from Bular’s claws, dust raining onto Steve’s head as the bricks cracked. He whimpered, trying to ignore the monstrous, hungry noises as he pushed himself further out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A great sense of relief rolled over them, finally escaping onto another street. Without thinking of any direction, they continued onwards, only wanting to get away from the vicious rock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By now, the only source of light were the streetlamps they sped under, the asphalt slowly fading away beneath them as they reached more of a neighbourhood. Claire really hoped everyone was inside their houses, safe from the pillaging monster. Beige boxes behind wooden fences were behind them, the woods ahead. She was contemplating whether continuing on would give them an advantage or a disadvantage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sounds of a rampaging troll were now so far behind them that they could not hear him, finally taking a break to rest. Steve squatted on a curb, hands on his knees as he shucked breaths in and out swiftly, his heart rattling against his ribcage. Claire was not much better. She bent over, trying to catch her breath. The amulet was cold in her hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why, why-” She retched, bending over, but nothing came out. A pale hand wiped her mouth. “Why aren’t you working?” Her voice was scratchy and quiet, almost like air. The amulet stayed inconsiderately useless in her hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cuh-laire!” A familiar, deep voice rumbled from a bush happily, scaring bot teens. Blinky and AAARRGH came out from the woods, both with grins adorning their faces.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You got away from Bular! I knew you had potential, Miss Claire!” Blinky thrust a fist forward to show her strength. She spluttered and coughed in reply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve stood up from the curb, stalking over. “You have a really sophisticated voice, man, but if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be about to </span>
  <em>
    <span>freaking </span>
  </em>
  <span>die!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky looked almost offended, stony brows knitting together. “Well there’s really no need to say <em>that</em>, Steven.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“IT’S STEVE!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands to the sides. His hair was a wreck, blown over the wrong way, and dirt smudged itself on his body. There was a drop of oil from the truck wiped across his cheek, right below his blown open eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But, you guys can fight him off, right?” Claire put a hand on Steve’s shoulder to steady herself. Her knees felt shaky, adrenaline wearing off, leaving her with a hollow sense of fear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both trolls looked at each other, laughing at the question. Blinky waved her away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you are a funny human, however, no, I could not possess the skill to defeat Bular.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire gestured to AAARRGH’s huge, tank-like body. “Okay, well what about you? You look pretty strong.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AAARRGH winced. “Hmmm...Pacifist.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blond walked closer. “Seriously man?” Steve patted his carved arm. “What a waste of such a strong bod,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” AAARRGH seemed authentically pleased with the phrase.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the dark, Blinky’s yellow eyes reflected what little light there was almost like a cat. He gestured at Claire. “See, this is why there is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Trollhunter,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Miss Claire. </span>
  <em>
    <span>AAARRGH </span>
  </em>
  <span>renounced the violent path centuries ago.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She threw her hands up in the air. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Well</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I didn’t sign up f-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A horrid, clashing roar like a rumbling volcano came from the end of the street, along with the crushing of metal as a large stone monster rammed into a lamppost. Saliva spluttered from his mouth as he shouted at them, rushing forward on all-fours.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blue troll’s eyes widened in pure alarm. “Follow me! We’ll be safe in Heartstone Trollmarket!” He and AAARRGH turned to flee, narrowly missing a telephone pole that was knocked over. Bular broke the wooden post in half as if it were a toothpick, sparks flying from the wires as they fizzled out in a large puddle.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Miss Claire, it is</span>
  <em>
    <span> imperative</span>
  </em>
  <span> that you don the armour!” They were descending into the woods, covered by a maze of towering trees. Bular thumped behind them, as if he were barely tired.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been trying, but the stupid thing isn’t listening to me!” Steve screamed behind her, tripping and falling onto the grass. The wind was knocked out of him, palms scraped and knees bruised. With one swift action, AAARRGH yanked him up and swung him onto his back, before carrying on. Steve held onto the green fur like a lifeline. Which, seeing as if he let go he would die, it technically was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you speak the incantation?” Blinky asked, rather matter-of-factly for someone about to die.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, actually, I never thought of- YES I’VE BEEN INCANTING THE CRAP OUT OF IT!” Claire narrowly dodged a twig about to whack her in the face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve called out from his spot on top of the lumbering giant. “Just focus Claire, or we’re gonna die!” The trees cleared up, and they reached the edge of the canals. Bular roared, coming closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Breathe, Claire.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AAARRGH leapedd over the edge, Blinky following by rolling down in a curled-up ball. However she didn't follow, dirt splashing onto her boots as she skipped to a halt, facing the charging beast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Focus, Claire’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bular came crashing towards her, and time slowed down. A leaf fell in front of her face, twirling in midair. Her feet teetered on the edge, so close to slipping backwards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command!” She stared intently at the blue device in front of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing happened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“FOR THE GLORY OF MERLIN, DAYLIGHT IS MINE TO COMMAND!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The huge, menacing face was just inches from hers, a black fist connecting with her stomach just as the armour started to plate itself around her. Flying into the air, she almost lost consciousness, dimly watching as pieces of her metal exterior affixed themselves like a puzzle, letting her drop to the ground on one knee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She slid back a few paces, using a splayed hand to steady herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like a huge storm raging from the sky, Bular hailed down, landing so heavily that cracks zigzagged away like bolts of lightning. He roared, beating his chest, readying for a fight. Claire only needed one look to know what to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ohhhhh, nope…” Claire tucked tail and ran, the armour weighing her down slightly as she rushed to get to the others. Bular’s pounding upon the concrete could be heard close behind her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Use the sword!” Blinky called out, cupping his mouth, as if she hadn't already guessed a weapon might come in handy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bular did not seem deterred by her fleeing, a menacing grin appearing on his face. He unsheathed a butcher-looking blade from his back, charging as in a bull-like manner. He had a bull-like intensity, too. “I’ll drink your blood in a goblet made out of your skull!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Swing at ‘em, Claire!” Steve shouted, now standing next to AAARRGH, who was dragging an orange crystal across the wall under the bridge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quick with the Horngazel! We must open up the Entryway with haste!” From where an arc had been drawn, the greyness splintered and cracked into small pieces of stone, which the floated away in a spiral direction. Behind the wall, was a dank cavern, empty and cold. STeve and AAARRGH did not hesitate to dive in, but Blinky stayed outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He shouted, the young girl being so close.“Miss Claire! Hurry up!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m a little busy here!” The sword manifested in her hand, dropping onto the floor before she managed to heave it up into a position she hoped looked intimidating. Bular only laughed at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll tear that metal shell from you Fleshbag, along with your flayed skin!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She took advantage of his entertainment, swinging the sword instinctually and just clipping one of his fingers in a blue glow. He hissed, bringing his sword down on her. Claire parried with the oddly shaped sword, so unfamiliar in her hands. The silver metal deflected Bular’s grimy blade, giving her an opening to continue moving even though he followed close behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I’m so...Close,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>All she wanted was to close her eyes and disappear. Blinky grabbed onto her with two hands, dragging her backwards with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bular reached out with a clawed hand, missing her as she was pulled behind the closing wall. The last she saw of his face was an ugly, snarling block of unforgiving anger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both teenagers panting, Steve clutched onto Claire’s now unarmoured arm, shaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire turned her head to the blue troll, whos eemed to wait for her to say anything. “We-we,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaned closer. “Yes, Miss Claire?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WE ALMOST DIED!” Steve did not seem inclined to disagree with her, also wearing a great deal of mortification on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Almost’</span>
  </em>
  <span> being the key word here!” He pointed a finger, making a point as if on a list. Behind him, AAARRGH watched them squabble.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you insane?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had a giddy smile on his face, lips moving animatedly around his teeth. “A life of ‘almost’ is a life of never - remember that!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Claire was staring at Blinky, imagining all the ways she could wipe the smile off his face, the amulet popped off, falling into her hand. The armour vanished in a puff of light. “Um, why’d my armour disappear?” Looking down at herself, her clothes were muddy, dishevelled, reeking of sweat. Hairs tickled the back of her neck now that her hair had fallen down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tapped a finger to his stony chin.“Hmm, you</span>
  <em>
    <span> are</span>
  </em>
  <span> the first human trollhunter - it is expected that the amulet will be volatile or unpredictable for your use.” At his side, AAARRGH steadied Steve, who looked like he was about to faint.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great. This is great.” Claire threw her hands up in the air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-where are we?” Steve coughed. Blue lights suddenly flashed on behind him, making him jump. What had previously been thought a hole soon illuminated itself as a crystal staircase, going very deep down. Woahhh...and what’re these glowy rocks?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky laughed, trotting down the steps with clinks of his footfalls. The crystals seemed delicate, but they did not break beneath his weight.“Ohh, do not worry, Steven, you are in safe hands now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heartstone, safe.” AAARRGH patted Steve’s head clumsily, a giddy smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They descended down the stairs, both humans staring with awe at the carved tunnel, buffered into shiny grey walls all around them. It started to level out, the crystals beneath them fading into a brown floor. Warm, orange light like the sun flooded over them. When their eyes adjusted, they were standing on a ledge, Blinky beckoning them to come forward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, welcome, Miss Claire, to Trollmarket, and its citizens, who you are now charged to protect!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know if lots of people do what Claire and her dad do in the morning with chopping up food, but it's what me and my mum do so I thought it would be a good way to show them doing something together - In the show I feel like we barely got any scenes with Javier.</p><p>Also, I know Claire has really strayed from her portrayal in the show by this point - that scene with her kicking the lockers wasn't originally going to be in this, but then I realised that she's an angry girl with no outlet, and sooner or later the dams gotta burst.</p><p>In her speech when she auditioned, I decided not to have her point the sword up in the air like Jim did, because she would not have drawn that in a school.</p><p>Please comment or leave kudos!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Wherefore Art Thou, Trollhunter? Part One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Claire and Steve get a look around Trollmarket, having their fist encounter with Draal, and meeting the grumpy Vendel.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Steve and Claire are my BROtp.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Woah.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pretty much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beyond the ledge that they stood on was a sprawling town of rocks and crystals, centering a huge glowing stone of orange warmth. The streets were winding and unorganized, lined with rooms and entrances carved into the face of the caves. Purple windows glowed from above, some covered by a flap of fabric serving as a curtain. Instead of streetlamps, pink gems jutted out from the ground or from the sides of the caves, giving off a cool luminescence. It was like a few mismatched towns had been merged together, creating a marketplace of odd stalls and peculiar decorations. There were no noises of cars, or machinery, just an endless chatter coming from the crowds of citizens.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Much like the street that Steve lived on, there were neon signs advertising shops, but in the shapes of socks and cats rather than booze. And instead of drunks and vapers, there were trolls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like, a <em>shitton</em> of trolls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some tall, with broad shoulders, and long arms that went past the knees of their stubby legs, some long and nimble, with hooves and knees that bent the wrong way. Most had horns, a few curling like rams or flicking upwards into points. Like Blinky and AAARRGH they too had carvings, but not in the same patterns - Steve wondered if they were personalised just as humans had specific tattoos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Following Blinky, they started descending towards the market, looking all around to try and absorb as much as possible. Claire ran her hands over the stony wall, feeling the smooth coolness under her fingertips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is where you guys live?” She let out a death-defying laugh, sounding just a tiny bit unhinged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course! Trollmarket is home and hearth and sanctuary for all good trolls!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh. I thought the only things beneath our town were the sewers.” Steve noted, almost tripping over a rock before steadying himself. When he looked down, he noticed the floor was a cobbled, organized mess of different stones stuck together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky tapped his chin, the pink light of a gem reflecting on his blue skin as purple. “Well, we’re not technically </span>
  <em>
    <span>under</span>
  </em>
  <span> you, per say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Claire had stopped touching the stone walls, and was now eyeing the new trolls as if they too might attack them like Bular.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He entwined the fingers of one pair of hands, pondering on how to explain. “Trollmarkets are not on the same plane as your town - for instance, we exist in the space underground, but if you were to tunnel down from above, you would not find us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” She raised one eyebrow, the left side of her top lip pulling upwards. She looked wrecked from her fight, twigs and leaves in her curly hair, and dirt smudged on her cheek, but still held herself with confidence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky sighed. “Look, all you need to understand is that Arcadia Bridge is what connects our home, to yours. Like one of your <em>motorways</em> that will lead you to your destination.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She snorted. “Pretty sure a motorway doesn’t disobey physics.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They immersed themselves into the busy crowd between stalls, AAARRGH watching vigilant behind them. Claire looked to her left, where a troll with ginger fur covering his shoulders was selling pots. He tipped his head back, and with razor-sharp teeth, ate a whole human sock. The woolen article slurped down his throat like noodles, the troll licking his lips with relish.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Filling their senses was the overwhelming smell of different minerals, dirt, fresh water, herbs like rosemary and thyme, leather, and raw meat. It was like a perfume made by a noseblind five year old - not particularly unpleasant, but not something you’d like to smell of, either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve started to drift a little, reaching out to touch a carving of someone being stabbed on a slab of rock being sold. AAARRGH pulled him back to their group before the owner saw human hands on his chiselling. “Stay close. Human feet have never before graced the ground of Trollmarket.” Blinky warned him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve and Claire walked side by side, Claire eyeing the trolls as they stared at them in distaste, whilst Steve pulled his phone from his pocket, ready to take photos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Humans?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” A nearby troll snarled out, in a high pitched but grainy voice. She was stout and bulbous, with purple-dyed leather tied over her chest, and three rows of horns that looked like AAARRGH’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Friends.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The gentle giant rumbled, protectively putting an arm out in front of them. As he walked away, he let loose a threatening growl, and immediately all the other trolls averted their eyes, minding their own business.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is crazy! You going to take any pictures?” Claire looked down at the phone in his hand, grinning senselessly. Yes, she had just survived a brush with death, but she could also appreciate the beauty of where the encounter had led them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'This place is way more magical than just acting in a Shakespeare play!'</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve started snapping away, pointing his phone in all directions to cover as much as he could. “I know, It’s so beautiful!” If he didn’t get killed, he was going to make some </span>
  <em>
    <span>killer</span>
  </em>
  <span> drawings. Through his lense, he took a picture of an entrance to a smaller cave, a huge bust of a troll head chiselled above the hole. Taking a quick peek inside, he saw an orange troll bent over a table, another designing a bendy pattern into his stone skin. Claire pulled him along when he started to lag behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She watched with a dopey grin as they walked through a less populated area, Steve pressing his hands against different coloured rocks and gems as they went by. Claire just observed him, noticing how different and carefree he seemed when not in school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘He’s still been a dick, though,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>She reminded herself, although she wasn’t minding his company. She'd probably go insane if there wasn't another human with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dang</span>
  </em>
  <span>, look at this purple, and this pink, and woah that’s a nice gree-” Steve yanked his hand away as he realised the shamrock green rock he’d been touching was in fact a troll’s abdomen. A very irritated troll’s abdomen. He snarled at the invasive human, before stalking away in thumping stomps. “Oh, uh, sorry!” He shouted at the retreating figure, before Claire beckoned him to follow. Blinky was a few paces ahead of them, but AAARRGH viewed the children fondly from behind, watching their antics.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This place is so unreal...Am I dreaming?” He wondered aloud. Claire pinched his arm without warning, long nails digging into his skin. “Ow! Why’d you do that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shrugged. “Well, now you know you’re not dreaming - this fantasmagorical nightmare-slash-dream is...totally real.” Her voice sounded unsure, but she pushed down the worry, calling out to Blinky. “Hey, so do all trolls live down here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now they were in more of a metalworks sector, much hotter than where they'd been before, and echoing with the sounds of clanging, banging, and sizzling. Claire watched as a leather clad troll dumped something made of metal into a tub of water. Clouds of steam rose up, and she wafted it from her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, not all. Although many trolls do travel here from far away in the hopes of finding comfort or remedies.” He spread all four hands out wide, the distinct chatter of trolls growing quieter around them as they went past a blue stall, a neon sign displaying a carrot, oddly. “And sometimes, trolls may find what they didn’t even know they were looking for.” He smiled fondly at AAARRGH, who patted his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Find Blinky,” He explained to them with an impish grin. Claire took a moment to figure it out, her eyes widening and mouth opening in a little ‘o’ shape. “So you guys are…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cocked his head to the side innocently, all six eyes blinking in unison.“Are what, Miss Claire?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve joined in. “Y’know…” He wiggled a finger between the two trolls. Were they gonna make him say it? He didn’t want to be rude if they weren’t!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luckily, they were distracted by a gaggle of small creatures rushing across the ground, quick as black cats. Claire froze still, scared of stepping on one of them. A little gnattish thing with white hair and a red spike stopped and stared up at her. As she leaned down, she noticed it was almost like an extremely small old man. With a pointed finger, she tried to tap the top of it’s hat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh, so what are you little guys called? You got such a cute lil’ hat there-” It snarled at her, biting with needle-like teeth and only missing her finger by a millimeter. Claire yelped, jumping away. “Those teeth are</span>
  <em>
    <span> not</span>
  </em>
  <span> cute, though!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky started stomping like an elephant, attempting to squish the monstrous little gremlins. “Begone! Vile, vermin!” Out of breath, he rested his lower set of hands on his hips, watching them scurry away in swift blurs. One of them blew their tongue at him before running in the wind with a teetering little laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What was <em>that?</em>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gnomes! Scum of the Earth,” He brushed his upper hands against each other as if cleaning them “we only tolerate them for their grooming services.” Blinky gestured to AAARRGH, who flicked a gnome off of his furry shoulder, disinterested.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do they do?” Steve asked, watching one of them scamper beneath a basket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eat parasites from the larger trolls, mostly.” AAARRGH grunted in agreement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve’s eyes widened suddenly, seeing something from behind AAARRGH’s lumbering form. He ran forward without thinking, past Blinky, and stopped when he identified where the warm orange glow had been coming from. It was so,</span>
  <em>
    <span> so</span>
  </em>
  <span> beautiful, sending out something that almost called to him. Like a moth to a flame, his brown eyes honed in on it, entranced by the sense of peace that washed over him. It was a solidified flame, a sculpted tower of energy, invisible tendrils reaching out to him and caressing his skin with feather-soft touches. The noise of the market died down until it was nothing but a hum, the crackling you hear on the receiver when a phone hangs up. The smells of damp Earth turned into a perfume of flowers and fauna, a sweet smile appearing on his face. Taking graceful steps, he walked closer, closer along the cobbled ground, getting closer unt-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A rough hand yanked him back, encompassing his whole shoulder. “Careful! You fall off!” AAARRGH warned, picking him up, turning him in the air and plonking him back on the ground so that he was facing away from the Heartstone, no longer about to walk off a ledge. The connection he’d felt dampened instantly, but didn’t fade away completely. It was a warm tingle still circulating through his blood. Yet he ignored it, focusing instead on the scene playing out in front of him. Apparently, he’d zoned out longer than he thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A small crowd of trolls had gathered nearby whilst he had been looking away , intimidatingly glaring at them with distaste.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fleshbags!” One of them hissed out as a leer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Friends, there is no need to be afraid,” Blinky explained in a calm manner, stepping forwards. Claire grimaced, feeling the same sense of dread that she’d felt when Bular first appeared. A blue troll snarled at her, saliva spraying from their mouth, but she held her ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky pointed at Claire with an anxious smile. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span>, is our Trollhu-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the meaning of this?” Two cyan hands shoved the group of unfriendly trolls to the side, knocking one on her backside. He growled out each word in anger, pristine white teeth poking out sharply. His yellow eyes seemed especially menacing with how they faded to orange, splattered with red flicks like blood. A black slitted nose that almost rose higher than his lowered brows had a septum piercing, the metal ring swaying as he stomped forward. The newcomer led with his forehead in an angry manner, shoulders raising and falling in exaggeration. If he didn’t look like he was about to murder her, she would have laughed at his stubby little legs that were even shorter than her own - but she had no doubt they could kick her pretty far if needed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire thought he looked much different from all the other trolls, being the only one with white horns, and the only one with dangerous crystals protruding in elbow spurs or from his shoulder blades. Even AAARRGH seemed worried by his prescence, protectively coming closer to them. She took a step back, bumping into Steve, who jogged away, half thinking he may piss himself if another vicious troll happened to just pop up again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I was just getting to that, Draal.” Blinky said, though he too tried to get further away from the intimidating appearance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Human feet have never before sullied the ground of Trollmarket!” He eyed Claire up and down, leaning in closer and sniffing her. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Who</span>
  </em>
  <span> are these fleshbags?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire didn’t know exactly what ‘fleshbag’ meant, but it didn’t exactly sound like praise. Draal snarled at her, right up in her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wafted the air in front of her face in false bravado, as if smelling something disgusing.“Hey, you mind checking how your breath smells, sometime?” She whispered, looking him directly in the eyes. Draal puffed out an irritated huff from his nostrils, turning instead to Blinky, and ignoring her comment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blue troll cowered under his gaze, curling in on himself.“Draal, you may find this hard to believe, but, oh, how do I put this?” He twiddled his thumbs, which was impressive since he had double the amount. “...She is our new Trollhunter,” He squeaked out, laughing awkwardly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The crowd of trolls who were watching (the number of which had increased since Draal’s show of aggression) all gasped in surprise, shock, horror. Even the gnomes panicked and sped away as if a murder had just taken place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draal roared in anger, a blaze in his shadowed eyes. “She can’t be the trollhunter - She’s not a troll!” He rammed his fists down into the ground at Claire’s feet, narrowly missing her and creating spiderwebbing cracks. She shielded her face, but nothing hit her, miraculously. A loud rumble came from behind her, like a warning growl. AAARRGH was on his hands and feet, creating a space for her to stand under him like an umbrella made of solid rock. The two trolls glowered at each other, as if about to charge, heads bowed low.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky tried to speak sternly, failing due to his decreased height. He glanced concerned at AAARRGH. “Friends, if you please,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve cupped his mouth, shouting to her. “Do it Claire! Use the armour!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked back at him, and he gave her a small smile, dimples appearing in his cheeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Right Claire, you can do it. Just say the magic words...’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cleared her throat, and stood up straighter, ignoring Draal’s flabbergasted look. Without breaking eye contact with him, she smirked, pulling the Amulet from her pocket. The small, trollish face in the design stared at her, as if to say, <em>'You sure about this?'</em></span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>'Please, please, actually work this time.'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine</span>
  </em>
  <span> to command!” A silver hand ticked on the amulet’s surface, and in a flash of quickly dissipated light, the armour was donned. She spread her arms cockily to the crowd.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pretty wild, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky smiled proudly, but all the other trolls gawked, their expressions ranging from angry to confused. One asked, “A </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span>, protecting </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” They had a hand placed on their chest, acting like they'd just heard some terrible news.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“BUSHIGAL!” Draal roared again, punching a nearby wall and sending out a small cloud of dust. He put a fist over his chest, like he was about to make an oath. When he spoke, it was egotistical, in the same voice people used when talking about something they had the utmost faith and respect for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am Draal, son of Kanjigar, and the Amulet’s rightful heir!” He shouted at her with such a force that wind blew through her hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Heir?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Son?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pieces came together for Claire, her jaw dropping. She whirled around on Blinky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s his </span>
  <em>
    <span>son</span>
  </em>
  <span>? His </span>
  <em>
    <span>son</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” She whispered harshly, almost spitting in his face. Steve was still staring at Draal with a half scared, half curious expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah...Probably why he’s so high strung,” He pointed out for her, unhelpfully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When my<em> Father</em> fell, the honour should have passed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Draal snatched out a hand in a claw, digging into the ridges of the amulet and attempting to sever it from her body. Claire gasped, struggling to get away from his brute strength, until a huge flash of light shone from the amulet. The force blew both troll and Trollhunter backwards, Draal skimming along the ground with a screech whilst Claire landed safely in AAARRGH’s hands. Shakily, she stood herself up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amulet chose.” AAARRGH pointed out firmly, patting her on the head. The crowd started to disperse, chatter starting up once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Draal stood up, he pouted, waving a fist at them as the group walked past. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Vendel</span>
  </em>
  <span> will hear about this!” He warned them, pure rage coursing through his body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, well, feel free to fetch him.” Blinky skirted around Draal. “In the meantime, lots of Trollhunter business to be done. Nice to see you as always, Draal.” He continued walking away, one set of hands held behind his back. AAARRGH purposefully walked between Steve and Draal, seeing as how the blond one was unprotected by a suit of armour.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire raised her hands in a shrugging gesture, trying to smile politely at him. He snarled in response before storming away in the opposite direction, towards the market stalls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They only walked a short while longer, but after the encounter with Draal no one tried to interact with them, choosing to avert their gaze. A tall, thin arch was lined with bricks, twice the height of AAARRGH and just as wide. In Neon green lights, a sword was hung as the top, designed as Claire’s blade held against her back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Through the archway, the walls were a dark, murky grey, shining like a mirror. Steve absentmindedly ran his hand along it as they carried onwards, arriving at a thin and uneven path over a huge abyss. It had suddenly gotten a</span>
  <em>
    <span> lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>hotter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire gasped as the armour fell away, revealing her beat-up human form. “Woah - wait. Why did you come off?” She asked the Amulet, stuffing it back in her pocket. Blinky looked at her as if it were obvious. “Why, the Amulet responds to your unconscious command, of course!” He clapped her on the shoulder, guiding her forwards. “Like what happened with Draal back there. You wished for him to be gone, and so the Amulet pushed him away.” He put the palms of his hands together, almost like praying. “You are at ease, aren’t you, Miss Claire?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiled softly, letting out a sigh of relief. “Yeah. Yeah I think I am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky chuckled. “Well, it sensed that. You are beginning to master it, Miss Claire.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire gazed at the huge arena in front of her, mouth agape. Steve also had a similar expression. “Holy Shakespeare! Who the Hell lives </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lives here?” Blinky strode across the dusty beige path, unbothered by the lava below. AAARRGH chuckled. “Not at all! This is a training ground for Trollhunters of past, present, and future!” Blinky and AAARRGH continued across, but Steve was still at the edge, staring at the lava with large amounts of sweat dripping from his brow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why did they have a lava lake? <em>Why?</em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She approached him slowly with concern. “You okay, Steve?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His head snapped up at her, and she noticed him biting his lip. “Yeah, yeah, I just...I dunno. I feel a bit dizzy.” He stared down at the bubbling lava, as if it could help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire chuckled, shoving her hands into her pockets. She felt the coolness of the amulet in one of them. “Yeah, me too.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “But if it ever gets too much, just tell me. We’re in this together whether we like it or not.” He seemed to consider it for a moment, one foot tapping on the ground. After all that running his sneakers were now caked with dirt, roughed up and a little ripped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll...Yeah I’ll tell you.”He rubbed his eyes, like something was in them. “I think that glowy orange thing was </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> too bright or something.” Claire thought it only had a dim glow, but she kept that to herself. He looked...</span>
  <em>
    <span>off.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Like something was missing. Or something else was new. Claire chalked it up to their magickal experiences.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hummed in agreement. “Yeah, you <em>did</em> zone out a bit back there - but I’m sure that’s normal for someone who just escaped a mega scary ten feet tall rock monster.” Claire joked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve lightly punched her in the shoulder, grinning. “Well, I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for you.” They stood, shoulder to shoulder, watching AAARRGH’s moving back for a few seconds, comfortable in the silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She jogged away from him suddenly, running atop the lava lake.“C’mon, this way Stevie,” She shouted mockingly, beckoning him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s</span>
  <em>
    <span> Steve</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” He called back, though he smiled as he followed after her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Welcome, to the hero’s forge, Miss Claire, Steven!” Blinky spread his arms wide to showcase the arena, AAARRGH smiling giddily at his side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was huge and circular, tall and jagged walls going up and up and up, with breaks for crowds to stand in and watch. Podiums were built up so that the statues on top of them could watch over the floor, which had grooves in it like it was broken into pieces. Each of the statues was of a different troll, but they all wore the same armour…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, why are those statues wearing Claire’s armour?” Steve asked, pointing at one which had four arms, just like Blinky. Except the statue looked quite a great deal more intimidating.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“These, are the Trollhunters of the past, Steven, and one day, there will be a statue of your friend here too!” Steve and Claire both glared at him until he looked sheepish. “One day very far in the future - I assure you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the centre was a podium of sorts, ornate blocks holding up a trollish head with an open mouth. It had no eyes, and yet Claire felt as though it was watching her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Trollhunters go back to the age of Merlin, when the need for a hero was at its greatist.” A look of sadness passed over his usually joyous face, and he placed a palm on one of the podiums without a statue. His hand made a sliding sound of rock on rock as he took it away. “Soon, we will have moved the statue of Kanjigar here too.” He noted, AAARRGH delivering a smooth pat to his bald head. Blinky turned around, smiling at the two humans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, any questions you have before we do a little warm-up?” He clapped his hands together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire shook her head, but Steve tentatively raised his hand. “Yeah, actually - you call these guys the ‘Trollhunters’, but since they’re trolls, it kinda makes it sound like they hunt themselves.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AAARRGH hit him on the back, a little too hard, causing Steve to grunt under the weight. “Hunt bad trolls. Gumm Gumms.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire almost laughed, but didn’t due to his stony, grim expression, the corners of his mouth downturned. “Gumm Gumms? Doesn’t exactly strike fear into my heart.” Blinky rolled all of his six eyes, creating a vertigo affect since they didn’t all go in the same direction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he spoke, he sounded just like a historian lecturer. “It <em>should</em> - In trollspeak, ‘Gumm Gumm’ means : </span>
  <em>
    <span>bringer of horrible, slow, painful and thoroughly calculated death</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” His yellow eyes widened as he spoke, portraying how fearsome they were.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire gulped. Maybe that’s what Bular was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky took her silence as a cue to continue speaking, giving her a detailed history of how Gumm Gumms murder techniques had evolved through the ages. The Trollhunter's face slowly grew paler and increasingly nauseous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve was still admiring the designs in the podium for Kanjigar, AAARRGH watching him idly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He carefully tapped the huge grey arm to get his attention. Green eyes locked onto him, one stony brow raised. “Hey, AAARRGH?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Steve?” He replied, sitting on the ground with his legs splayed open. Steve copied him, half listening to Blinky ramble about dagger castration exercises to a horrified Claire before sitting cross-legged on the uncomfortable ground. He ran a finger through his hair awkwardly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What was that huge orange crystal, the one that glowed in the centre of the market?” With his hands, he clumsily tried to make the shape of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AAARRGH smiled warmly, as if remembering something fondly. “Is Heartstone, It keeps us strong, alive.” He looked back to Steve. “Why ask?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, it just made me feel a bit dizzy, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AAARRGH didn’t answer, but his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. Did the Heartstone make humans feel ill? Claire didn’t look unwell. Perhaps it only affected certain humans - maybe he’d ask Blinky about it later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back at the boy, who was watching Claire try to get Blinky to stop talking about such gruesome topics. AAARRGH chuckled. He’d been on the receiving end of many lectures from Blinky himself, observing him going on and on about his favourite topics. It would be worth telling his partner that Steve was affected by the Heartstone, he decided. He hadn’t known the humans for very long, but he cared for their safety still.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyhow,” Blinky loudly exclaimed, clearly off the topic of Gumm Gumm torture methods. “You must not worry about them for the time being - those trolls were exiled to the Darklands centuries ago.” Claire and Steve both let out a sigh of relief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Except for Bular, of course.” Blinky added on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why am I not surprised?” Claire asked no one in particular, throwing her hands up in the air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bular wants to kill you.” AAARRGH reminded her, pointing at Claire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, thank you for telling me.” She said with clenched teeth, a satirical smile on her lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm, yes, well, I sense ill times will be upon us.” He walked away from them, his feet clinking on the ground as he made his way to the wall, next to a round button. “Hence, the need to start Miss Claire’s training so soon.” Blinky pushed a hand through the air. “Step back, please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve and AAARRGH were still sat against the wall, but Claire shuffled back a bit from where she was stood in front of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky sighed, shooing her back. “A </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> further.” She complied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, very well.” He pushed the spherical button with two hands, setting off a number of mechanical clicks and whirs. Metal sliced through the air with a whizzing sound, a huge blade coming out of the wall right next to where Steve was sat. He screamed, getting up and running away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another one of the blades came out of a different slot, Claire nimbly dodging its precision.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fu-” She was cut off by Steve running into her, knocking them both to the ground. He hadn’t been watching where he was going, and ending up getting the breath knocked out of him. The horrible, mechanical sounds continued all around them as Claire pushed the mass off her chest. “Sorry…” He groaned out, his face lying on the cold floor. His cheek was smushed, eyes blurrily focusing on Claire, who watched warily as the swinging blades slowed down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“BLINKOUS GALADRIGAL!” A deep, old voice spoke loudly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Blinkous Galadrigal,” He repeated, a tall and hunched beige troll entering the arena, holding his cat-clawed hands behind his back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky sheepishly looked at the ground, and Claire helped Steve to his feet with a hand before walking over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s your </span>
  <em>
    <span>name</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” She asked him in disbelief, still a bit out of breath from the third near-death experience of the day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sounded mortified when he spoke. “Horrible. I know.” Blinky threaded his fingers together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The old troll came closer to them, giving them a better look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was almost as tall as AAARRGH, with the same pattern of hair covering his shoulders entirely, except a dusty gray. White eyes stared at them suspiciously. His face was like an upside-down triangle, with a pointy chin and a small mouth with miniscule tusks when compared to the rest of the trolls they’d seen. His ears were turned downwards, but poking from the side of his head just below the zigzagging horns, which looked as though they had bolts in them, the striated texture fading from a light tan to a darker. A blue, torn skirt hung from his waist, held up by a belt of leather hanging three different coloured crystals.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wish to meet the fleshbag </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposedly </span>
  </em>
  <span>chosen to be our new Trollhunter.” The newcomer loped over to Steve, who stared up at him cautiously. “I am Vendel, son of Rundel, son of Kilifred.” Vendel took a quick whiff of Steve, who shakily held his ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, S-Steve, son of Richard, uh Sir.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vendel growled softly, invasively poking him with a prickly claw. “Produce the Amulet, Trollhunter.” He ordered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Steve’s confrontation could go on any further, Claire pulled out the Amulet, holding it in the air. “Pretty sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> that ‘fleshbag’, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sir</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” She spoke with distaste, disliking how he spoke so condescendingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amulet chose.” AAARRGH added on in a rumbling voice. He came to stand behind Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vendel glared at her, a hint of mirth in his voice as he straightened up and came closer. “Yes, so Draal tells me. Ridiculous!” He leaned in to get right up to Claire’s face, allowing her to see that the bolts in his horns had small trollish symbols etched into them. He didn’t have wrinkles - she wasn’t sure that trolls could even get them, but his stone seemed worn away, grainier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well, the Amulet has been known to make ill-fated choices before, as </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>know better than most, Blinkous.” Vendel spoke with disdain at the blue troll, stalking off to the totem in the centre of the arena, his footsteps echoing off the walls ominously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> supposed to mean? Cause if you’ve gotten a troll murdered before or something, I’d like to know before you start training me!” She harshly whispered, not wanting Vendel to know that she was anxious. Blinky just looked at the ground in embarrassment, so AAARRGH answered for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unkar the Unfortunate. First night out, torn.” He said sadly, looking up towards a statue that seemed to be cowering from an invisible enemy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve laughed awkwardly. “You mean like mentally conflicted, right, man?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lumbering troll shook his head, miming something ripping apart with his beefy hands. “No. Torn limb, from limb.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire’s jaw hit the ground. What had she gotten into?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vendel cleared his throat to get their attention, gesturing lazily at the stone troll head. “If the amulet chose true, the Soothscryer will reveal it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky stepped forwards, almost shouting. “You can’t, Miss Claire hasn’t even had an hour of training!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vendel pointed at Claire with an unfurled finger, and then at the floor by his feet, grunting. His eyes were not looking at them in a way that invited questions towards his judgement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She jogged over, Steve following. Claire stood herself in the huge trollish footprints in the ground, gasping as it’s eyes glowed a horrid red, the mouth opening wider to show spinning rings of teeth and a clamp that crunched open and closed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Is he gonna ask me to put my hand in it? Man, I really hope not!’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She loosened her shoulders, feeling Steve’s presence just to her left. A few days ago she wanted to punch him - now he felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>comforting.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Soothscryer will render its judgement. Insert your right hand, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Trollhunter.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He told her mockingly. The mouth of the statue started whirring even louder, maybe just to scare her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Ah, shit.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked back at the old troll behind her. “Just so you know, if it bites off my hand, it’s all on you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>geezer</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vendel seemed unaffected by the insult. “Getting it back is</span>
  <em>
    <span> part</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the test.” He said with an excited grin on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire rolled her eyes, and clicked the cricks out of her neck. She eyed how far up the gnashing hole was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Need some help?” Steve leaned his back against the podium, holding out his hands to give her a leg up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Steve.” She rested her hands on his broad shoulders, and pushed herself up. The terrifying hand-hole was even more mortifying up close, like a hundred murder-machines all melded together to create a torture just for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. And rammed her hand straight in without looking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It suddenly went quiet, stopping all movement as it clamped down tightly on her wrist. Hard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve started to tremble with her weight, hands slipping beneath her feet. His voice was strained. “What’s happening, Claire?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a few seconds, nothing. Then, like she was an untasteful piece of food, the thing spat her out, sending both her and Steve sprawling on the floor. “Hnngh...that was rude,” Claire groaned out, accidentally keeping Steve pinned to the floor and kneeing him in the stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vendel inspected the Soothscryer for a moment, grey hairs shifting as his head moved.. “Hmmm...Inconclusive.” He turned away, starting to walk out on them as if he didn’t care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait! What does ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Inconclusive’</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean?” Claire asked, still on the floor. Steve rolled over and sat up, brushing dust off his knees.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vendel sighed in irritation. “It </span>
  <em>
    <span>means</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Trollhunter, that a human has never been chosen to bear the mantle before. The Soothscryer needs more time.” He looked down on them with stormy eyes, almost feeling sorry for the ‘chosen’ human. Vendel huffed, once again aiming to leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s all hope you live long enough to see what that means.” He called out from over his shoulder, and they watched his retreating form.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>                                                                                                                       -------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was pitch black outside, and cold as an icepick. But after all the exercise, neither of them were chilly. The suburban street was empty, except for a crow that pecked Claire’s front garden, unbothered by their presence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve laughed. “Man, that was so cool! Scary - totally scary, but…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Also really cool?” Claire finished off for him. The lights of her house were on, but she couldn't see anyone moving behind the curtains.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grinned. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I just hope I’m alive long enough to see some more cool stuff.” She noted with a hint of sadness, stopping at the postbox outside her house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you’ll do just fine - those trolls don’t have punk on their side.” She giggled at him, still a little high from the night’s events.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you make a joke before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve blushed in embarrassment, but covered it up by looking away. “What? No, I definitely made some about you and Lake.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire glared at him dissaprovingly. “Remember the deal? You gotta be nice to him!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes, waving her off. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She started walking towards her door. “I’ll see you tomorrow Steve - But I’m definetely going to come round your pizza place sometime, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He waved at her before walking off down the street. “Yeah, I guess that can happen.” Claire watched him, right until his large figure was engulfed by the darkness. She felt a swell of panic that he’d get attacked, but pushed it down, instead worrying about how her parents would react to her coming home so late. </span>
  <span>Taking a deep breath, she opened the front door, closing it softly behind her. Maybe they wouldn’t notice?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her home was warm, bright, soft and creamy, everything that made her feel safe. After taking off her boots, the carpet felt beautifully cozy underneath her toes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claire, come to the kitchen!” Her Papí called, sounding oddly happy. “We have a guest!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she entered the kitchen, she saw Javier pouring coffee for the last person she’d expect at her house, both men smiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr Strickler?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>                                                                      -------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Dad, I’m home!” Steve called out, opening the door to their flat. He didn’t get a response, but all the lights were off except for a glow peeking coming from under a door.. His feet moved across the creaky landing, pushing open the white door to the cramped lounge and looking around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Oh, Dad,” He chuckled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His father was laid across the blue couch, a newspaper laid across his chest. Obviously, he’d fell asleep whilst reading it. He was still dressed in his work clothes of torn jeans and a white T-shirt, pulled over his pot belly. From his wide, open mouth, came the loud snores that Steve was familiar with, like a rumbling truck down a highway. Gingerly, Steve removed his wonky reading glasses that were half slid down his nose, placing them on the coffee table with a clink. Shoving a pillow under his heavy head to make him more comfortable, he was about to leave, before he glanced at the small cactus on the windowsill.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was looking a little shrivelled, like a prune, or like Steve’s Grandpa when he sat out in the sun for too long. Tiptoeing, he made his way past his snoring Dad, picking up the ladybug-decorated watercan he had painted himself when he was younger. The red and black dots were messy, splodgy, but still made him feel warm when he looked at them. He let the cool water trickle out into the soil. “Here you go, little bud.” Steve almost reached out a hand to pet it, before remembering the spikes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On his way out, he softly rubbed his Dad’s shoulder. “Night Dad, sleep well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once he turned out the light and shut the door behind him with a soft click, he didn’t notice how the cactus expanded, green layers smoothing out and becoming unwrinkled at it seemed to swiftly heal from its dryness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It healed a little</span>
  <em>
    <span> too</span>
  </em>
  <span> fast - but no one would notice, not for a while.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hmmmm.....I wonder why the heartstone made Steve feel weird.....</p><p>Or what's up with his cactus?</p><p>Read more to find out!</p><p>If you liked this, please leave a comment or kudos, and if you want to ask any questions then ask away!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Wherefore Art Thou, Trollhunter? Part Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Strickler pops round for an unexpected chat, Claire has her first spar with Draal the Deadly, and Steve does some trollish drawings. Later, Claire gets in a fight, and throws her first punch.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW : There is a scene of some people fighting, which isn't very bloody (Literally just a nosebleed), and also a scene with homophobic language.</p><p>I will mark the beginning and end of this scene with a row of ++++++++</p><p>Also, I'm pretty sure the trollish word Draal sometimes said (Bushigal) means BS.</p><p>I'm going to try and have Claire speaking more Spanish with her family, but I have only learnt European Spanish, so if I write something that doesn't quite make sense in Latin American Spanish, please tell me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Mr Strickler?” Claire asked, blinking her eyes to make sure this was in fact real, and not a troll-induced hallucination. He was comfortably situated on a leather stool in front of the counter, smarty dressed in grey slacks, polished shoes shining in the electrical light</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, good evening, Claire.” The greying man nodded, taking a sip of Javier’s coffee and watching Claire over the top of the rim.</p><p> </p><p>“Mr Strickler just came over to congratulate you, how nice is that?” Her Papí leaned on the counter, beckoning her to come forwards.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that’s, uh that’s totally normal…” </p><p> </p><p>Strickler, with his legs crossed over each other and wearing a smart tan blazer over a blue turtleneck, smiled at her. Claire could swear he only had like, three outfits. “Claire, it’s a great honour that you have been chosen to wield this mantle. I’ve no doubt you’ll prove equal to the task.” He spoke as if something magnificent had happened to her - which had, but Strickler couldn’t know that. His face was impassive, watching her for a reply as he drummed his long fingers on the granite surface.</p><p> </p><p>Claire shuffled on her feet, and crossed her arms over her chest, gripping her elbows in the opposite hands. “The task?” She asked timidly, awkwardly shuffling in front of the two adults.  Was Strickler possibly talking about the amulet?</p><p> </p><p>“Of playing Juliet, of course!” Her father interjected, eyes twinkling kindly as he smiled. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. “I think it’s wonderful you got the part!” Javier looked so proud, beaming at his daughter. Claire wanted nothing more than to run over and hug him after her run in with Bular, to disappear in his embrace and the spices he always smelled of, pressing her face into his black woolen sweater. But with her history teacher there, she thought it would be weird.</p><p> </p><p>Claire took a moment to actually comprehend what he said, brown eyes suddenly brightening when she did. Her voice was high, rushed and excited. “Wait I got the part?” A huge grin split her face, eyes crinkling. She was the magical protector of a secret world of trolls, but <em>she got the part? </em>It was such a mundane thing compared to her earlier evening activities, but that was what she needed right now <em>- mundane.</em></p><p> </p><p>Strickler gestured at her as if it were obvious, thin lips tugging downwards. “Of course you did, with <em> that </em> audition piece! Miss Janeth was simply blown away!” He laughed, before taking another sip of coffee. When he put his mug down, it made a little clink on the granite, reminding her of the sound a troll’s finger makes when it touches something. “I thought I’d pop over just to have a little chat with your parents about managing times, since after all you have a lot on your plate.”</p><p> </p><p>Claire could see where this was heading, and she stepped forwards, resting her hands at her sides. “Look, Mr Strickler, I know the play is very time consuming, but I can definitely manage it.” Her voice was firm, not in the mood for arguing. Brown eyes watched for a response, steely. She didn't mean to be rude, or off putting, but she needed to do the play, and she wasn't going to let her mother <em>or</em> her teacher stop her.</p><p> </p><p>He waved what she said away with disregard. “Oh, you misunderstand - I think it’s a very <em>good</em> idea for you to continue with the play. I’d encourage you to keep pushing yourself to do activities outside of academics, otherwise you won’t be a well rounded student.” He gesticulated whilst he talked, making sharp and stern gestures gracefully. It reminded Claire of what her Mom did when she gave public speeches.</p><p> </p><p>Javier sat down, a serious but kind look on his face. “Claire, your mother and I were quite worried about you not having enough time to study, but Mr Strickler has told us that you’ll have plenty enough time, so of course we won’t force you to quit the play.” He leaned his elbows on the table, sleeves rolled up to reveal hairy arms. Sighing, he thought about his wife’s reaction to their daughter getting such a large part. “I’ll try to convince your Mom that doing the play is good for you, and I’m sure she’ll come around since one of your teachers have said you’ll be fine.” Claire didn’t look as though she believed him, a frown pulling on her small lips.</p><p>Her mom thinking the play was a good idea? Not very likely. It was as Draal had phrased her being the Trollhunter earlier : <em>'Bushigal'</em></p><p> </p><p>Strickler turned back to the other man, clicking a ballpoint pen that was suddenly in his hand. It was black, with gold lines on it's shiny surface. “Yes, although if Mrs Nuñez <em>is</em> still concerned about Claire having too many commitments, just tell her to give me a call - I’ll be more than happy to talk to her.” He took a notepad from a pocket in his blazer, and scribbled down a line of digits. Ripping out the page, he handed it to Javier. “My number, if you should need it.”</p><p> </p><p>Claire’s father nodded, and then used a red magnet to put it up on the fridge, right where her mother could see it.</p><p> </p><p>Strickler observed Claire, green eyes darkening. He folded his hands in his lap, lifting an eyebrow patronisingly. “<em> However </em>, I am a touch worried that you were late to Señor Uhl’s class the other day - you’re not sleeping in, are you?” When he spoke, his whole face moved animatedly, flesh morphing into a concerned but engaged expression.</p><p> </p><p>Claire smiled sweetly at him, straightening up. “No, no, it was just that once - I’m fine, really.” Nervously, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, hoping Strickler would just get up and leave. Honestly, she could swear it was <em>not</em> normal for teachers to just 'drop by' like this.</p><p> </p><p>He hummed, lips pursing thoughtfully. “Good. I thought it wasn’t like you.” Baring his teeth in a polite smile, he got up from the stool, leather shoes hitting the floor. “Well, I must thank you for the delightful coffee, Mr Nuñez, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” Strickler inclined his head politely, straightening his lapels as he stood up, and stuck out his hand.</p><p> </p><p>Javier shook it, leading Strickler to the front door, where he said goodbye.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you so much for coming over!” He remarked, brown eyes shining. Strickler chuckled, sliding one hand into a pocket.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s no problem, really. Goodnight!” With a large hand he waved, and turned around, his soles slapping down on the stone path through their garden.</p><p> </p><p>Strickler walked away towards his parked car, but didn’t get in, waiting until Javier shut the door and he could sneak to the side of their house. A certain red-eyed troll was waiting for him in the shadows of a tree, like a predator. Striding over on long legs, he sighed, frowning in a way he’d never aim at a student.</p><p> </p><p>“All due respect, <em>Bular</em>,” He growled out in irritation “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to come to such a vastly populated area.”</p><p> </p><p>Bular didn’t reply, looking through a window at Claire as she poured herself a cup of coffee. A few seconds later, the other human snatched the cup away from her before she could drink any. He could smell them, the warm scents of blood-pumping human flesh - just ripe for the taking.</p><p> </p><p>“Why am I not feeling her neck snap between my fingers right now?” His grey-tipped hands curled, as if going through the violent motions. “Or burning her hut to the ground?” Bular pulled up to his full, impressive height, staring down at the changeling menacingly.</p><p> </p><p>Stickler scoffed, rolling his eyes. “<em> That </em> certainly wouldn’t draw any attention.”</p><p> </p><p>But Bular was not deterred. “I could take the Amulet and be done with it.” His hand curled into a fist, and his eyes honed in on Claire greedily.</p><p> </p><p>“Your attempt to do so earlier was not only unsuccessful, it risked exposing our agenda to both humans<em> and </em> trolls.” He gestured as he spoke, unfearfully stepping closer to the hulking beast. Bular snarled in his face, horns tipping forwards slightly, but did not argue back. In the small amount of light, he looked like a pile of rocks, sliding and moving together to make a red-eyed amalgamation.</p><p> </p><p>Strickler spared a glance to the Nuñez’s house. “The first human Trollhunter - this will take patience, finesse.”</p><p> </p><p>“I despise your weak methods, Impure.” He growled beneath his breath. “<em>I</em> only respect force.”</p><p> </p><p>“And<em> I </em> respect your Father.” Strickler countered back, placing a hand on his chest. “I have an underling, a changeling who is a student at her school. You may not understand, but now that she is doing their school play, he will have many chances to gather intel on her.” The teacher was quite confident in his plan, knowing that Jim would obey him. Not that Young Atlas knew his <em>entire</em> plan, of course.</p><p>Once he knew enough about the new Trollhunter he could be done with her, find her weaknesses and use them to tear her apart. He smirked, clenching a fist.</p><p> </p><p>Bular took a few moments to think, breathing heavily. “What is a ‘school play’?”</p><p> </p><p>                                                                                                                     ------------</p><p> </p><p>Claire thought she saw something in the window, but when she looked, there was nothing but a dark and shadowed bush sitting innocently outside.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t really think Mom’s going to be proud of me, do you?” She asked her Papí, who was stirring in the milk for a hot chocolate. He laughed fondly, smelling the cocoa.</p><p> </p><p>“You must give her time - she will be proud, especially if you show her what a great actress you are!” The mug was warm in her hands when he passed it to her. “She just wants what is best for you.”</p><p> </p><p>She took a sip of the delicious warm liquid, savouring it. “¿La neta?” Claire replied back, earning a ruffle in her hair from her father.</p><p> </p><p>“Sí, she does. Your mother is just a bit strict sometimes.” Claire smiled at him, not quite looking him in the eyes, as if she were seeing something he couldn’t, or remembering something.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> know </em>, Papí.” She started walking towards the stairs. “Buenas noches,” Her voice was soft, tired just before she yawned.</p><p> </p><p>Javier waved a pointed finger at her, eyebrows raising so far up his forehead in animated anger.“Uh uh uh, young lady! Not before I get my kiss!” He insisted, a playful grin on his face as he tapped his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>She laughed, kissing him on the cheek before running up the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t wake up your brother!” He called to her, but she probably didn’t hear him.</p><p> </p><p>                                                                                                              -----------------</p><p> </p><p>Claire was stood in the centre of the forge, right where the soothscryer used to be. The armour wrapped around her body, extending Daylight in her hands. Feet at shoulder width, and the sword at a 45 degree angle from her body, she thought it was an fairly okay battle stance.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky didn’t think so. He circled her with his bottom pair of hands held behind his back, pointing out the areas where she got stuff wrong.</p><p> </p><p>“Widen your feet. Keep your frame!”</p><p> </p><p>Claire followed his instructions, gripping the blade in both hands, though it didn’t weigh as much as a sword of its size should have.</p><p> </p><p>Steve and AAARRGH were sat at the sidelines, the human drawing what he could see in a portable sketchpad, HB pencil scribbling away. The sketchpad had been Claire’s idea, telling him that it would be cool to have some drawings, even if he seemed embarrassed about them. AAARRGH watched him with interest.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, yes, that’s fine - raise your sword a little though, Miss Claire.” He roughly pushed it into position, somehow not getting cut by the blade.</p><p> </p><p>“Chin out, heap up, stomach in.”</p><p> </p><p>She straightened upwards, teetering on her feet. Blinky clapped, his lips spreading to an encouraging smile. “Hmm, yes, that’s good!”</p><p> </p><p>Claire smiled, feeling confident. The armour almost felt familiar by now, comfortable and like a second skin. Blinky cleared his throat, and she could feel a lecture coming on.</p><p> </p><p>“The Trollhunter lives and dies-” Claire’s smile faltered at the reminder of incoming doom, her grip on the sword slipping a bit. “-by three rules.” He held up three of his fingers to illustrate, and then flipped down all but one.</p><p>“Rule number one - always be afraid.”</p><p> </p><p>Claire chuckled darkly. “Think I’ve already got that one covered.”</p><p> </p><p>“Be afraid,” AAARRGH warned her, diverting her attention as Blinky picked up a small rock and lobbed it at her head. </p><p> </p><p>“Eep!” it skimmed the air next to her face, landing with a clatter on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“What was <em>that</em> for?”</p><p> </p><p>Blinky gestured at her. “See? Fear is good - it keeps you alert, on guard, vigilant.” He picked up another rock, tossing it between two hands before chucking it at her again, and then another, and another. His aim was good, with strong hits, but she managed to evade them all, nimbly hopping and jumping around. Blinky smiled at her briefly, before starting to circle her again. He slammed a fist into an open palm to make a point.</p><p> </p><p>“A heroine is not she who is fearless, but she who is not stopped by it!” As he walked around her, she followed him, twisting around and adjusting her stance.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I think I can manage,” Claire nodded for him to go on.</p><p> </p><p>He held up two hands, each one holding up one chunky finger. “Rule two : Always finish the fight - an opponent must be given<em> no </em> mercy!” With a swift throw another rock almost hit Claire in the abdomen, but she curved around it, armoured plates flexibly sliding against each other.</p><p> </p><p>“And by ‘<em> no mercy’, </em> you mean kill them?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Precisely </em>, Miss Claire!” Even more small rocks came upon her in an onslaught, pushing her back when she deflected them with the blade.</p><p> </p><p>Claire wasn’t entirely sure she could straight-up <em> kill </em>someone.“I-I’m not sure if I can do that,” A rock hit her between the shoulderblades from behind, and she fell over with a grunt. Steve snorted.</p><p> </p><p>“Must finish fight.” AAARRGH told her, evidently being the one who threw the stone.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky sighed, agreeing with the other troll. “Alas, my dear, you are right,” Claire picked herself up, sending Steve a glare that stopped him from smiling at her misfortune. “A Trollhunter must <em>always</em> vanquish her opponent through death.”</p><p> </p><p>“Or maybe vanquish their opponent through the judicial system?” Steve piped up, shrugging.</p><p> </p><p>“I am not entirely familiar with this ‘judicial system’, but unfortunately, ours is an unforgiving world, Steven.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s <em> Steve </em>” He muttered underneath his breath, but Blinky ignored him.</p><p> </p><p>Claire held her sword loosely in one hand, letting the tip hit the ground. “Besides, our ‘<em> judicial system’ </em>can be kinda unforgiving too.” She remarked, grumbling satirically.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky continued walking. “Moving onto the third rule,” He held up three fingers, the rest of his hands held behind his back. “When in doubt, kick them in the gronk-nuks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Gronk nuks?” Both Claire and Steve asked in unison. Blinky smiled mischievously, stomping a thick foot on the ground twice, creating a puff of golden-orange dust. Within seconds, a huge scythe-like blade swung down from the heavens, grey shiny metal ending in an arc between Claire’s legs. Eyes blown wide, she stared down at the steely edge just an inch from her...<em> sensitive </em> area.</p><p> </p><p>“Couldn’t you have just pointed it out?” She asked the blue troll in exasperation, gesturing to the unnecessary blade. Laughing, he waved her away.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you’ll remember<em> now </em>, won’t you?” One of his stony brows was raised, and he leaned in closer, giving her a hand in getting up.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> I’m </em> definitely gonna remember…” Steve muttered, but only AAARRGH heard him.</p><p> </p><p>Claire looked as though she were thinking deeply about something. “Wait, so you’re saying, that one third of Trollhunter-ing is just whopping someone in the sweet spot?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure I completely understand that, but I think so, yes.”</p><p><br/>Claire laughed, spinning the sword in her hands. She watched the light glint off it like rays of sunshine. “I think I can get behind <em> that </em> rule.” On her face was a devious grin which made Steve unconsciously move his sketchbook so that it was shielding his own gronk-nuks. Her bright mood faded, however, when she heard someone heavy and big enter from the huge stone arch.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, so the great Trollhunter’s training begins.” Draal stalked into the Forge, stout legs stomping down the steps. He smiled as though something funny was about to happen, the same way people look when a prank they’ve orchestrated is about to be set off. Spreading his arms wide, he tried to look welcoming, even. “I thought our new<em> Trollhunter </em> might accept my services as a sparring partner!” He rammed one fist into the palm of his open hand, with such a force that Claire thought he’d be able to squash her head without even trying.</p><p> </p><p>His yellow eyes stared into hers, challenging. Claire maintained eye contact, not wanting to let him push her down. Draal huffed, a trollish version of a snigger, and turned towards Blinky. “Part of ‘er training regiment, <em> isn’t it </em>?” He smiled, as if he already knew the answer.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky laughed nervously, idly pointing up a finger to make a point. “In due time, perhaps,”</p><p> </p><p>“Why wait?”</p><p> </p><p><em> ‘Oh yay...this guy again...’ </em> If she could, Claire would have facepalmed.</p><p> </p><p>Vendel stood in one of the stands, hands held behind his back and a condescending look in his eyes as he quite literally, looked down on them. “I am eager to see your charge demonstrate her mettle,”</p><p> </p><p>“How about I demonstrate it on you?” She muttered quietly in a low hiss, just loud enough for only Blinky and Draal to hear her. The crystalline troll snarled in her ear as a response, and Blinky looked as though he was ready to facepalm into all four hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Let them spar!” The old troll exclaimed, spreading his arms wide and grinning with his sharp, cat-like teeth. Draal chuckled darkly.</p><p> </p><p>“No harm in it!” He told her in a way that very much implied some degree of harm. Blinky sighed resolutely, making his way to the side of the arena where AAARRGH and Steve were still sat, watching it all unfold. She ran after him, tapping him on the shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! Wait, you gotta tell me what to do!”</p><p> </p><p>He looked back at her as if the answer was obvious. “Hit him, as hard as you can, of course!”</p><p> </p><p>“But-but I don’t know how!”</p><p> </p><p>He made fists with all four hands. “It’s really quite simple, you ju-”</p><p> </p><p>“I haven’t <em> hit </em> anyone before Blinky, I don’t know if I can!” She threw her hands out to her sides, to emphasise. Behind her, she could hear Draal getting into position.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Never </em> <em>?</em>” All his eyes widened.</p><p> </p><p>“Nope.”</p><p> </p><p>“You fought Bular, however briefly, and you were glorious - your bladework was quite impressive!”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s just because I chop lots of vegetables with my Papí - I still don’t know how to actually fight someone like this!” She thrust her hands in Draal’s direction, pointing at his imposing figure. Blinky sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>“Miss Claire, the fight is <em>within</em> you. When the time comes, you will fight, and manage to strike back. One hit, and you will feel changed forever!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure I like the sound of that…” Claire glanced at her own tiny, thin hands. Blinky winked at her with three of his eyes, and clapped a hand on her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Good luck!”</p><p> </p><p>Claire took a deep breath, and turned to face Draal, getting into the stance Blinky had taught her earlier. </p><p> </p><p>He had both his hands on the floor, palms splayed out like someone about to push themselves into a charge. A huge snarl spread across his face, pulling his lips around his gums and displaying sharp, massive teeth. White horns that curled and pushed outwards from his head were bowed low, a perfect position to headbutt Claire into next week.</p><p> </p><p>“Begin!” Vendel shouted, glee in his voice. If she did manage to beat Draal, the old troll would definitely be the next one she went after.</p><p> </p><p>Claire started shaking, holding her ground whilst Draal roared and charged, fists slamming into the ground. When he got about halfway, he leaped into the air and tucked into a ball, rolling along the ground as a spiked missile, honing in on her.</p><p> </p><p><em> ‘Oh, fuck this,’ </em> She thought to herself, grunting and leaping out of the way just seconds prior to the spikes slicing through her flesh. <em> ‘One hit my ass.’ </em>Claire panted and held her sword out in front of her, hearing Draal rolling about but unable to see him.</p><p> </p><p>Until he dropped from the roof - apparently he’d defied all laws of gravity to go straight up the wall, coming down on the Trollhunter with a surprise attack. Clouds of dust fogged her vision as he impacted on the ground, making it hard to breathe. She twisted around to try and see him, yelling in pain as he came from behind and punted her into the air.</p><p> </p><p>Time slowed down, allowing her to see the floor hurtling towards her face, but not strong enough to put out her hands to protect herself. Like a ragdoll, she rolled along the floor, twitching and groaning, the sword a good few feet away. Draal laughed liked it was child’s play.</p><p> </p><p>“Claire!” Steve yelled out, getting up to run over but being stopped by AAARRGH’s grip.</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t go. Must fight alone.” He said sadly, gently holding Steve’s fleshy arm.</p><p> </p><p>Unable to do anything, he watched as his friend was lifted up by the collar, and punched by a rocky fist that sent her sprawling across the unforgiving floor. Draal stepped out of the golden smoke he’d created, slowly lavishing each footfall between himself and the human Trollhunter.</p><p> </p><p>Claire moved, trying to get up, but only groaned and fell back down on her chest with a clang. She watched the sword dissipate into blue shimmers of light, but it did not return to her. A great weight pushed down on her back, his heavy foot standing on the small of her back. Gasping, she tried to breathe, ribs aching from the strain. He leaned over and growled in an animalistic laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve waited my entire life to inherit the amulet. I can wait until you fall in battle.” Draal pushed down even further on her, ceasing her ability to breathe entirely. Her vision became spotty, and she gasped, scrabbling for air. Her metal fingertips scratched on the ground, creating noises as pathetic as she felt.</p><p> </p><p>All of a sudden, the weight lifted, and Draal let out a dark chuckle. “I suspect I will not have to wait very long.” Claire pushed herself up, meeting his steely eyes. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay down and live, <em> worm </em>.” He spat on the ground, leaving without turning back.</p><p> </p><p>Claire felt like crying, just laying down in the ground and never getting back up. Letting the floor of the arena swallow her whole. Steve came over to check if she was okay, and she had to dig her fingers into her palms to stop herself from crying. They agreed that would be the end of her training, for that day.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s right, you know.” She told Blinky as they walked back to the surface, staring at the amulet in her hand. </p><p> </p><p>“About what, Miss Claire?”</p><p> </p><p>She sighed, stopping and shoving a hand in her pocket. Glassily looking at him like she was thinking about something more important in her head. “I <em> am </em> a worm. I’m nothing - not when I’m compared to trolls like Draal, and Bular.”</p><p> </p><p>Blinky could see where this was going, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. His six eyes were all sympathetic, softening around their stony edges. “Miss Claire, I-”</p><p> </p><p>“I need you to be honest with me, Blinky. Do you think I’ll survive?” Claire asked bluntly, staring him right in the eyes. He took a while to answer back, letting the mindless chatter of other trolls in the background fill the silence.</p><p> </p><p>“I-I don’t know.” He told her honestly, sighing in defeat. Four arms hung at his sides dejectedly. “All I can do is train you, and hope for the best.”</p><p> </p><p>Claire tried to pass him the Amulet, holding it out at arm’s length. “I think the Amulet chose wrong. Please, just take it back.” She could barely look at it, ashamed of herself for being so <em> scared </em> of death.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky gently pushed it back to her. “I cannot. The Amulet is bonded, to <em> you </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say.”</p><p> </p><p>                                                             ------------</p><p>“Try getting to me now, buddy.” Claire clicked the lock on the toolbox, shutting the amulet in. She swiped her hands against each other, a smug smile on her lips. She couldn’t be the Trollhunter, if the Amulet couldn’t grant her the armour.</p><p>She opened the door connecting her house to the garage, the smile slipping from her face, stopping dead in her tracks.</p><p> </p><p>The amulet sat innocently on the wooden floorboards, somehow having escaped from the locked box. Claire threw her hands up, storming away and hoping the amulet wouldn’t follow her.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh<em> come on </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>                                                   ------------</p><p>Claire chuckled, and hefted the Amulet high, high in the air. It’s glowing blue light spun round and round.</p><p> </p><p>“Hasta luego!” She told it, swinging the baseball bat with all her might. It flew like a frisbee across the pink sky, dropping down into the trees. Claire felt quite confident it wouldn’t make its way back.</p><p> </p><p>It did.</p><p> </p><p>Shut in freezer? Didn’t work.</p><p> </p><p>Buried in a hole in the garden? Didn’t work.</p><p> </p><p>Chucked behind her bookshelf with all the other useless things she disposed of? Didn’t work.</p><p> </p><p>She even considered dropping it into Enrique’s diaper bin, but thought it not worth the risk of having to wear poop-smelling armour.</p><p> </p><p>After a few hours of trial and error, she gave up, stuffing it on her pocket with a resigned sigh. She left a note on the fridge saying that she was studying at a friend’s house, and started making her way to Steve’s. Just as she was putting on her boots in the porch, her phone started vibrating, texts coming through. Cursing, she pulled it out and checked, hoping it wasn’t her parents.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Darci : Claire! Where r u? It’s study night????</b>
</p><p> </p><p><em> ‘Damn. I completely forgot!’ </em>She cursed, thinking of something to say.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sorry, some other stuff came up - see u in school.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>She shoved her phone in her pocket and left, hoping her friend wouldn’t start wondering what she was doing.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>                                                                                                              -----------</p><p> </p><p>Steve was walking back to his flat after making a quick delivery for his Dad, hands in his pockets and staring up at a murder of crows flapping across the grey skies. Claire had agreed to meet later that evening, once he’d given her the pizzeria’s address. He was worried about her - when they’d left Trollmarket she seemed distant, staring at the amulet in her hands as if plotting something.</p><p> </p><p> Cars whirred past him, playing music without a care in the world, naive to the knowledge that there were terrible monsters who wanted to eat them. Fire hydrants with scratched up paint and lampposts bent at odd angles lined the street like urban trees, occasionally with a few weeds poking out of the sidewalk around them where the concrete was weaker. The air smelt of kebabs and fried food, idle chatter floating around. Not many people were out, except for a few stragglers. Passing a convenience store, Steve let the multicoloured lights from their flashing signs wash over him, giving him a neon highlight, making his golden hair look pink. He smiled at the mixture of colours reflected on his arm.</p><p> </p><p>“Please! Please sto-” Someone whined, a high pitched voice a little while away that Steve thought sounded familiar. The smile dropped off his face instantly, and he looked around, trying to find the source. With all the sound of cars, distant people, the wind, and the birds, he thought he might've imagined it.</p><p> </p><p><em>Aha! </em>On the other side of the street there was a narrow alley, darkened and looming, slotted between two buildings. It was probably only used by dumpsters - or recreational drug use, of course. The cars driving on the road made it hard for him to see clearly, but if he squinted he could just about see the shape of two people, one cowering on the ground in a heap. </p><p> </p><p>For a moment, Steve thought about just walking by and ignoring them, before remembering how watching Draal made him feel. When he watched him stand over her, laughing, he realised how he must have looked to everyone else all these years. <em>What had he been thinking?</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>He had been a dick. <em> He was </em>a dick. Claire was right to make him apologise to Lake, after all he had pretty much just been the human equivalent of Draal, another guy being mean to someone weaker.</p><p> </p><p>But maybe if he intervened, he…..<em> wouldn’t </em> be such a dick anymore?</p><p> </p><p>Steve waited for the cars to slow down, and then leaped off the sidewalk in a sprint, heading towards the alley. For a moment, he stood at the entrance, trying to think of something to do. The kid whimpered, curling in on himself as he was kicked in the stomach. A loud gasp escaped Steve, grabbing the assailant’s attention.</p><p> </p><p>“What’re you looking at? Piss off!” The tall one shouted, and then spat on the ground. Steve recognized him, a senior on the school basketball team. What was his name? Joe, James, Johnny?</p><p> </p><p>The bully was quite thin and wiry, though undoubtedly strong, wearing a denim jacket and sweats. His hair was a dirty blond - and I mean <em> dirty </em>- looking as though it hadn’t been washed in weeks. It was too dark to get his eye colour, but the rest of his face was gaunt and pale, high cheekbones with a bony nose and pointy chin. Assuming that Steve had walked away, he went back to laughing at the small kid, slapping a hand against the grimy brick wall near his head.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Steve stared down at Eli with a cocky grin on his face, ramming his hand on the metal locker above him… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head, trying to disperse the memory.</p><p> </p><p>The darkness and shadowy corners of the brick cave only made Steve's nerves greater, the two building they were wedged between towering over him like looming giants. Steve took a deep breath, and winced, walking into the alley. He tried to seem casual, leaning against a dumpster that reeked of feces and rotten food. Finger-gunning, he grinned nervously. “Heeey, Joel, maybe you should leave him alone - go play some basketball or something.”</p><p> </p><p>Joel cocked his head to the side, snarling. “<em> Oh </em>, you want some too, pretty boy?” He had a grim smirk on his face, hands shaking even though one was being used to hold the small, hooded kid against the wall.</p><p>                                  TW++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++TW</p><p>Steve put his hands in front of his face, shying away. His foot stepped in something squishy that he did <em> not </em> want to look at. “N-no, just uh, please leave him alone?” He asked, rather timidly due to the wonky teeth bared in his face. The taller, leaner athlete let his victim fall to the floor in a heap, letting out a grunt of pain. Sneering, Joel shoved Steve’s shoulder, letting him knock into the corner of the green dumpster. “Why? This twink your boyfriend?” With a thumb he pointed over his shoulder at the shivering lump of a boy, whose face was covered by a grey hood.</p><p> </p><p>Steve nodded his head in an agitated manner, hoping somehow that he might be able to redirect Joel’s anger from the kid he was hurting, whoever he was.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Please say this doesn’t backfire…</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Y-yeah! Yeah he <em> is </em> my boyfriend! So why don’t you <em>back off?</em>” Joel’s eyes widened in surprise, giving Steve a chance to shove him back, pressing the advantage. As Joel stumbled, he linked a foot behind his knee, tripping him up. His butt landed in a puddle of dank and dirty water with a sickly splash. Groaning, Joel laid on the ground, rubbing his bruised tailbone with a hand.</p><p> </p><p>Steve jogged to the hurt boy and crouched down, placing a hand tentatively on the boy’s shoulder. “H-hey man, you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>His small frame was shaking from head to toe, dirt smudged across his shoulder in the shape of a large hand, and the footprint on his chest from where Joel kicked him. A few blood splatters were on his collar, presumably from a bloody nose. He sniffled, wiping his nose, and then looked up, the grey hood falling away.</p><p> </p><p>“Eli?” Steve asked in shock, eyes going wide. His face was a mess - skin bruised and yellowing, a trickle of red flowing from his small nose. Brown hair was smushed on one side, plastered to his sweaty forehead. His eyes didn’t meet Steve’s, either because of shame, fear, or because he’d hit his head and couldn’t focus.</p><p> </p><p>Steve hoped it wasn’t because of the last option.</p><p> </p><p>Eli’s whole body was shivering, and he shakily put his palms on the ground, trying to push himself up. Steve looped his hands under his armpits and helped, finding him surprisingly heavy.</p><p> </p><p>“H-hey, do you think you could say something, just so I know you haven’t been hurt too ba-”</p><p> </p><p>Pain honed in on the right side of his face, Joel punching him with all his might. Steve hadn’t even heard him get up. Eli yelped, covering his face with spindly little arms as he dropped to the floor again without Steve holding him up.</p><p> </p><p>Staggering backwards, Steve waited for another fist to come, but nothing happened. Slowly, he opened his eyes, the right one still wincing. A figure was standing at the entrance of the alley, awash with dim sunlight, and holding Joel back with one iron-clad grip. Luckily, his hit had been pretty weak, so Steve managed to pull himself together quickly.</p><p> </p><p>“Wha- Bitch! Let go of me!” He snarled, squirming to get out, but the newcomer didn’t let go, instead stomping on his foot and getting a little yelp from him. They scrabbled for a bit with each other, the smaller one nimbly evading his swings and lousy kicks.</p><p> </p><p>The sunlight moved, and Steve could see clearly again. Apparently, Claire Nuñez was on the scene. She was in ripped skinny jeans and pink high-tops, her trademark jacket of badges and pins slung over a blue shirt. Squaring up, she snarled rather troll-like, brown eyes dark. Shoulders heaved with every breath she took, her small body struggling.</p><p> </p><p>Joel tried to grab her arm, but she twisted out of it, gaining an opening.</p><p> </p><p>Claire yelled and kneed him in the gronk-nuks, taking advantage of his pain to land a solid left hook to the face. Joel fell to the ground, whimpering. For a few seconds she just stared down at him, losing her grip on her own body. Her eyes floated above, and she observed in third person his twitching face, bruised and now bleeding, from his nose. Steve groaned, and she snapped to the present, seizing up. They both observed as Joel rose unsteadily to his feet. Then, without saying anything, he ran off, knowing that he was outnumbered and outmatched.</p><p> </p><p>No one spoke for a while, the only sounds being car engines and their own deep breathing.</p><p>                                                              TW+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++TW</p><p>                                                                                                               --------</p><p> </p><p>They were in Steve’s bedroom, Claire placing a bandaid over a split knuckle, the antiseptic she’d used resting on his bed.</p><p> </p><p>Eli was hurt, but refused to go to the hospital, insisting they just take him to his house, where his mom thanked them profusely, offering for them to come inside. Both Claire and Steve refused, agreeing that they would probably just get in the way. Besides, he didn't exactly feel as if it would be okay, waltzing into the home of the boy he bullied. The whole walk to his house, Eli had scarcely said a thing, sticking closer to Claire so that he wouldn't have to even make eye contact with Steve</p><p> </p><p><em> ‘He got really hurt, have I ever hurt him before? No, I don’t think I have. But could I have? If one day I went far enough?’  </em>Steve's head was a constant monologue, all of the ways he'd made fun of people in the past crashing into him like a train wreck of regret. Instead he focused on his guest, pushing his internal crisis away for later.</p><p> </p><p>To put it nicely, Claire looked like shit - her hair was a scraggly bun of black strands, held together precariously by a pink hairband. Grey smudges stained the elbows of her navy jacket, a few of her pins either loosened or gone entirely. On her face, she didn’t look entirely unhappy, yet she still had an edge of sadness. He couldn’t see it, but her lower back was turning yellow, and would probably be all types of brown and purple when she rose the next day.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks, Steve.” She smiled up at him, perched on the edge of his bed. Claire let her gaze fall on the walls, inspecting all of the small paintings and drawings held up by blu-tac, a huge palette of greens, blues, purples, and greys. Some of them were crude, lines wobbly and colours blended blotchily, probably from when he was younger, before he improved with practice. The rest though, were quite pretty, some even beautiful. Most of them were postcard-sized, but one was significantly larger than the rest, a view of a cliff edge from a bird’s eye view. Not too realistic, so it wouldn’t be mistaken for a photograph, yet the colours were still vibrant and the lines thin and bold. Green-blue grass on top of the rocky outpost was textured in 2D, unmistakably a patch of feather-soft blades of grass stretching below the sun.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Steve, these are really good!” She got up so she could inspect them more closely, ghostly running her fingertips up the wall. The corners of each piece were turned up and bent, the paper changing shape due to absorbing water. Rosy red paint stuck out from behind the drawings, the original wall colour serving as a background that made them stand out.</p><p> </p><p>Steve let the beginning of a smile tug on his lips, and he bashfully looked at the floor. “Thanks.” He also sat down on the edge of his bed, letting himself sink into the cozy green sheets. If Claire wasn’t over, he probably would have already changed into comfier clothes. “Yeah, I, uh, I really like watercolour.” Absentmindedly, he ran a hand through his hair.</p><p> </p><p>She giggled, sitting back down with a squeal coming from the bedsprings. The mattress sunk down on his left. “Yeah, I can tell.” Her eyes moved to his desk, where all his palettes were, as well as a currently incomplete piece. “Also, can I see the sketches from today? The ones from the Forge?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yeah, yeah of course! Let me just get ‘em out.” Reaching into his bag, he fumbled about until he touched the metal of the spiral binding. Whilst he looked for it, Claire glanced at the row of small succulents on his windowsill, in hand-painted terracotta pots. His room was nice, warm and soft feeling, an orange glow coming from the fairy lights on his wall. Claire was almost jealous of him, of the anonymity he must feel from living in such a noisy, bustling area. How he could just exist without anyone honing in on his every move, blending into the crowd.</p><p> </p><p>He flipped through a few pages of trees, stopping when he got to a sketch of a four-armed troll. “Yeah, I only had time to draw Blinky, before…” He trailed off, unsure of how to phrase ‘Before you got your ass kicked by a huge blue troll’ in a nicer way.</p><p> </p><p>She winced, realising what he meant. “Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>She took the sketchbook from his hands, and looked over the messy lines, pencil overlapping from when Blinky had moved and Steve had to guess what certain limbs looked like. Overall, it was quite accurate, the troll’s face obviously mid speech and one of his hands in the air as he pointed at something. (Probably Claire’s  disappointing stance.) The markings on his body were a bit blurry, and probably not exactly what they looked like in real life, but the sharp and angular marks only added to the quirkiness of the sketch. In the corners of the page, there were some more trollish doodles - the chiselled lines on AAARRGH’s arms, and the markings of the arena floor.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a pretty good drawing of Blinky - you even got him mid-lecture!” Claire pointed at his open mouth around his tusks. Steve chuckled, taking the pad away and tossing it onto his desk with a <em> thump. </em></p><p> </p><p>The bedroom door suddenly swung open, and both teens froze up, for a moment assuming that someone was here to attack them.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Steve, you in he-” His Dad stopped in the doorway, eyes falling on Claire. “Oh! I didn’t realise we had a visitor, what’s your name?” He seemed completely polite, dressed in black jeans and a blue T-shirt that had sprinkles of flour on it. Middle-aged and with a round face, the only way he resembled Steve was with his dark blond hair and hooked, sloping nose.</p><p> </p><p>Steve stood up and gestured to her. “Hey Dad, uh, this is Claire, she just came over to help me study.” He had a nervous smile on his face, eyes not quite meeting his father’s.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, we have the same maths class, so we thought we’d just do the homework together, Mr Palchuk,” Claire piped up politely, shocking Steve with the unusually sweet smile on her pink lips. Being the mayor’s daughter, he supposed, probably meant she knew how to make herself look trustful. “But uh, I can leave if you guys have stuff you need to do,” She added on, shuffling her feet.</p><p> </p><p>The big man laughed and crossed his hairy arms over his chest. “Please, Claire, just call me Richard - and it’s fine if you want to stay a little longer, I was just comin’ in here to tell Steve we have some leftover pizza and garlic bread from someone who forgot to come pick it up. D’you want to stay and have some with us?” His green eyes looked hopeful behind his rectangular glasses, the lines on his face becoming more defined as he grinned warmly.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Dang </em>, we have garlic bread this time?” Steve asked excitedly, since usually when someone forgot to pick a meal up it was one of the vegetable ones. His stomach rumbled at the thought of that heavenly bread, yearning for some food. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't eaten in a while.</p><p>Claire laughed in a hum at the sound, standing up. “I guess I could have some,”</p><p> </p><p>                                                                                                              ---------</p><p>“Deny and refuse, but he can’t deny it. But Romeo can’t not be a Montague, which means that Juliet...” Miss Janeth paused mid-step to look at Claire, as if waiting for her to say something. She stayed silent, not knowing what she was supposed to say. Did she have a line?</p><p> </p><p>Jim coughed, and spoke up from her left, where he was stood on stage. “And she’ll no longer be a Capulet?”</p><p> </p><p>The teacher sighed but nodded her head, pushing her glasses up her thin nose. “Yes, exactly. Now, Jim, from where we left off.” She waved her hand at him to continue, sitting on a chair in the empty theatre.</p><p> </p><p>“Right - I got it. Love, deny, refuse, I got it down.” Miss Janeth seemed unhappy with Jim’s phrasing, but listened as he carried out the lines. Per Strickler’s request to keep an eye on Claire via the school play, he’d been learning the lines at every spare moment he got. It didn’t hurt that it would probably impress Claire, either.</p><p> </p><p>Jim got to the end of his paragraph of a line, watching as Claire called out, “Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo?”  She knew all the words, but her movements looked stiff as she reached out a hand for her beloved, her voice not entirely committed to the emotion. Not that it made him any less attracted to her, but she looked worse that day, one of her shoelaces untied, no makeup, and her hair unbrushed before being stuffed in a bun. She even had only one earring in - not in a punk way, but in the 'I forgot' way.</p><p> </p><p>Miss Janeth started writing down some notes with a defeated look on her face, saying nothing as they finished the scene.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Claire, you okay?” He whispered, turning to look at her. She looked so <em> normal, </em> just like any other teenage girl, that it was hard to believe <em> she </em> was the feared Trollhunter. Claire tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing a bruise on the underside of her arm in yellow discolouration. Was she battling enemies already?</p><p> </p><p>“I-I’m good, Jim, just a little tired, that’s all.” She tried to give a smile, nervously blushing at him.</p><p>“Oh-okay, that’s good, I guess.” He anxiously laughed, hands squirelled away up the sleeves of his hoodie. He clenched the script to his chest. “H-hey do you want to meet up sometime? Like, to go over the script and stuff?” His face was bright red, and he could hardly look her in the eyes. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ‘Damnit this isn’t a date Jim, you’re just asking her if she wants to study with you!’ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Claire looked a bit shocked at first, but nodded, holding the script at her side. “That sounds really good actually, since we have <em> a lot </em> of scenes together.” She laughed, and placed a hand on his arm, causing him to go stiff like an ancient statue.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, o-okay.”</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, so that little scene in Steve's room wasn't really necessary to the plot, I just wanted to show them bonding with eachother. And Eli has finally appeared again! (Although not in the best of circumstances...)<br/>Joel's a dick I made up because obviously Claire couldn't punch Steve!</p><p>Next chapter, Jlaire and Steli content!</p><p>Now that I've got the story going, and I am returning to school soon, updates will be happening on Mondays and Fridays, maybe other days if I can write fast enough.</p><p>As always, please leave kudos or a comment if you liked this, and if you have a question, please just ask!</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Trees to meet you.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve and Eli finally talk to each other, Jim has a gift for Claire, and apparently trees are known to break in and enter.</p>
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    <p>Steve really hoped he was at the right house, otherwise it would probably get a bit awkward.</p><p> </p><p>Actually, it would probably be less awkward if he turned up at the <em> wrong </em>house.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ‘C’mon, Palchuk, just get it over with.’ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He rang their doorbell, hearing a faint buzzing sound come from within.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Was he too late? What if he wasn’t home? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The sun beat down on the top of his golden head, spreading warmth all through his body.Through his thin T-shirt he began to sweat, though he was unsure whether it was entirely because of the heat. It was a nice day, one where you could just lie in the grass and forget everything, letting the heat melt you down to nothing but a sleepy brain of mellowed emotions. A blue blanket spread across the sky above him, the odd cloud every here and there, like pieces of fluff.</p><p> </p><p>Taking a deep breath, Steve shook out his shoulders, pumping himself as if he were about to start a marathon. This was the most anxious he’d felt in months, tapping his foot endlessly as if it would make him feel better.</p><p> </p><p>The cream bungalow stared down at him, guarding its inhabitants.</p><p> </p><p>The white door slowly opened with a squeak, a small brunet boy standing in front of him. His long and pale face was marked by a huge purple splotch next to his nose, a pair of askew glasses resting precariously on his nose. Dark brown eyes widened in surprise. A red hoodie engulfed his small and thin figure, trapping the warmth inside. “Steve?” Eli whispered in shock, his voice hoarse.</p><p> </p><p>Steve considered turning tail and fleeing. Hopefully, Eli would then assume his former bully turning up at his house was just a post-getting beat up hallucination.</p><p> </p><p>When Steve spoke, it was in a high, scared voice. “Yes?” His hands started fiddling with each other, all the words he’d planned on saying suddenly leaving his head.</p><p> </p><p>“...Hi.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hello.”</p><p> </p><p>There was a beat of silence, and Steve’s eyes looked anywhere <em> but </em> Eli as he tried to think of something to say. Behind the small figure was a well-kept front room, light grey carpet stretching out behind him. It didn't look as though anyone else was home. He tried to ignore how Eli looked fixedly at him, quizzically squinting.</p><p> </p><p>Pushing his square glasses up his face, Eli leaned his weakened body against the doorframe. He coughed, and then piped up in a high voice, “Thanks, f-for yesterday.”</p><p> </p><p>“W-what?” Steve almost shouted, eyes blown wide. His nerves were so on edge that he would probably jump ten feet if someone came up behind him.</p><p> </p><p>“Yesterday, that guy - Joel.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve smiled quickly, waving his hand as if Joel was nothing. “Oh, yeah, yeah, I remember that <em> pretty </em>clearly.” He laughed nervously, high pitched and out of place.</p><p>Was he doing the right thing? Or would apologizing to Eli only drag up bad memories? For the fist time he felt actually scared of something that wasn't a threat, anxious like someone about to take an exam which would inevitably fail.</p><p>Fingers lacing together, he forced the words out. “Look, Eli, I just came here ‘cause, well because I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“For what?” Eli looked genuinely confused, as if Steve <em> hadn’t </em> been bullying him for the past few years. Did Eli not think that it was wrong? Even <em>Steve</em> knew that Eli had been mistreated, and he was the one mistreating him! He had the sudden urge to fix up everything wrong in Eli's life, the same way he'd fix up a broken oven. </p><p> </p><p>The words came out in a long jumble, voice shaky and stressed. “I just realised, y’know, that all those things I said to you...I shouldn’t have said them.” He said nothing in response, choosing to look down at the floor, at his feet in warm blue socks with spaceships on them. “I was a dick, and I see that now, and I just want you to know that I-uh, owe you one, maybe? Like you know if you need help, just come get me, or something?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, uh, okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m-I’m just really sorry, Eli. So if there’s anything I can ever do for you, <em> please, </em> tell me.” His brown eyes were so pleading and huge, a bit red and wet on the edges. Lips turned into a frown, the corner of his eyes sagging down, he looked like a kicked puppy.</p><p> </p><p>“...Okay, uh, thanks, Steve.” Eli gave him a quick, fleeting smile, and shut the door softly, leaving Steve alone outside. Softly, his footsteps could be heard receding on the other side.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ‘Oh God, did I mess that up? Is he annoyed at me? Or is he just tired?’ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He released a breath of air, shoulders relaxing as he realised there was nothing else he could say or do. He felt good about one thing, though.</p><p> </p><p><em> ‘He did give me a smile…’ </em>He idly thought, heat rushing to his cheeks for a reason unknown. There was a pip in his step, a great weight lifted from his body. When he walked on the grass in front of their house to get to his vespa, his footfalls did not leave prints in the grass. Instead, where he had tread the blades grew longer and thicker, energised by some power.</p><p> </p><p>But Steve didn’t notice, too lost in his own head with thoughts about his own past.</p><p> </p><p>                                                                                                                     ----------</p><p> </p><p>“And then he read you that as a <em> bedtime story? </em> ” Claire snorted, almost spitting out her milkshake. The diner was almost empty, except for an old lady who watched them with suspicion from the corner. Jim nodded at her, flushed as he laughed and tried to catch his breath. As usual, he was donned in his blue hoodie, but with a denim jacket on top. Claire thought he looked snug, and warm, and really, <em>really</em> nice.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, as if it<em> wasn’t </em> going to give me nightmares for the rest of my life!” Jim cleared his throat, and put on his best British accent, in an imitation of Strickler. He straightened an imaginary tie and raised an eyebrow patronisingly. <em> “Young Atlas, it’s simply character building,”  </em> He barely got through the sentence before the two of them devolved into fits of laughter aimed at their history teacher.</p><p> </p><p>It had taken a while to get the conversation going, what with both of them being anxious, bumbling wrecks of teenagers, but eventually they let go, easily talking to eachother.</p><p> </p><p>Claire kept laughing, slamming her cup down on the table. She wiped a tear from her eye once she stopped shaking. “<em> God </em> . I still can’t believe Mr Strickler was your babysitter - <em> Oh my God, </em> that’s freaking hilarious!” One of her tiny hands came down on the table clumsily, palm clapping against the crimped metal.</p><p> </p><p>He smiled at her, resting his face in his palm and watched her at a tilted angle. Her hair was straightened and loose, hanging to her shoulders but still perking up slightly at the ends. Wicked eyeliner flicked out from her eyes, on top of a pink powder above her warm brown orbs. Purple lips sucked the chocolate shake from the paper straw at an almost inhuman rate of consumption.</p><p> </p><p>Jim leaned back into the cushioned seat, watching a seagull fly past the booth's window. “Yeah, it’s what he did before he started teaching. He still comes over sometimes-”</p><p> </p><p>“To babysit?” She asked with a cheeky grin.</p><p> </p><p>“What? <em> No! </em> ” Claire laughed at his shocked and embarrassed expression, cheeks flushing pink. “ <em> No, </em> he just comes over for dinner sometimes, talks with my Mom since they’re still friends.”</p><p> </p><p>Humming in amusement, she took a quick look at her phone, the buzzing in her pocket annoying her.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Mary :  Where are you Claire? I haven’t talked to you for like days!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Mary : C’mon claaire</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Mary : Yo srsly are u okay?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Mary : Whats going on with you?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Mary : Is Steve doing anything? You’ve hung out with him a bit the past few days.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Mary : I know Im not exactly the role model here, but please say you are not dating him!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Mary : Claire!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Claire sighed, and shook her head.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>No, we’re not dating, just friends, ttyl.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Claire?”</p><p> </p><p>She shot her head up, and stuffed her phone back in her pocket, now on silent. “Hmm?”</p><p> </p><p>He chuckled nervously. “Are you okay? You’ve seemed a bit out of it lately.” Jim sounded genuinely concerned, the cool blue of his eyes gazing at her warmly. “Cause in that rehearsal last night, you just seemed kind of...I dunno. Just not like you, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, something big happened, I guess. And it’s been a bit stressful.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not that I want to push, but has it got something to do with Steve?” His head tilted to the side, edging forward. The way he spoke implied that Steve was the<em> cause</em> of a problem, not affected by it.</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head, vehemently denying that he'd done something wrong. “What? Why would it have anything to do with Steve?”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s suddenly hanging around with you all the time - especially since you pushed him away from me.” Of course, if it had come to it, Jim could have taken Steve on, but he really didn’t want to draw attention to himself in school.  His brows creased as he thought. “Actually, he’s pretty much left me alone since then…”</p><p> </p><p>Claire laughed nervously, and didn’t look him in the eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Did-did you say something to him?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe? I don’t know. It’s-it’s hard to talk about.” She looked sad now, rubbing her hands over her arms and without a smile on her face.</p><p> </p><p>Jim poked her in the forearm to get her attention, smiling. “Claire, you can tell me, okay?” His voice was smoother, almost coercing her to go on.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve just been thrown into a situation together, and it’s not ideal, but he’s nicer now. I think he’s starting to see that he’s been kinda...a dick.” As she moved her arms, he noticed the yellow bruise on her wrist again, right where someone could have grabbed her.</p><p> </p><p>He laughed. “Yeah, that’s<em> one </em> way of putting it. I get the whole ‘thrown into a situation’ thing, trust me.” Being introduced to an order of violent changelings as a child could definitely be classified as a <em> ‘situation’. </em></p><p> </p><p>Claire flicked over a page of the script, and cleared her throat, trying to change the subject. The one thing worse than failing at being protector to a world of trolls is having your crush <em>know</em> that you are failing at being a protector to a world of trolls. She was <em>not</em> going to dump her problems on Jim. “Let’s take it from <em> So thrive my soul, </em> shall we?” She looked so sweetly at him, with those huge brown eyes, that he zoned out for a good few seconds before actually comprehending what she said.</p><p> </p><p>“Y-yeah, sounds good.”</p><p> </p><p>Claire tucked a strand of hair behind her round ear, flicking a thumb through the script on the table. “You know, I've had a really nice time going through the script with you Jim, it really helped!” She sounded earnest, getting to know her acting partner a little better. Although they hadn't spent even half of their time actually reading through it.</p><p> </p><p>He grinned, closing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “It’s okay - besides, you’re fun to hang out with, and a bit of a badass too.” Jim said, letting the words fall from his mouth without even thinking. Was ‘badass’ too much? Claire blushed, smiling, not able to stop her teeth from showing. He thought the dimples in her cheeks were cute, imperfectly placed so that the left one was higher.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks, I uh, don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before,” She looked sheepishly downwards at her milkshake, staring into the chocolate gloop. Jim gestured at her, hands moving up and down as if to encapsulate her being. </p><p> </p><p>“Really? But you're like, super brave! No one else would have stuck up against Steve like that!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure if just doing the right thing makes me a badass…” She looked away, embarassed.</p><p> </p><p><em>“Trust me</em>, it does.” He pulled his bag onto his lap, unbuckling it and searching around for something. “I-I wanted to say thank you, you know, and I noticed you wear all those pins on your jacket, so I went and got a few from that retro store-”</p><p> </p><p>“Jim, that’s, that’s really sweet of you, but you didn’t have to do that!” She leaned across the table top, elbows resting on the splayed out script. He kept rummaging around, grunting in frustration when he couldn’t find them. It was a bit odd, thin arms stuck down a bag and shimmying around, but it did the trick.</p><p> </p><p>“Aha! Got ‘em.” He took out a small clear box that rattled when he passed it over to her. When their hands brushed, Claire realised how large his palms were. Or maybe they just looked big against hers.</p><p> </p><p>The box was plastic and small, held shut by a rubber band that she discarded on the table, and held four metal pins with round discs. The pictures on the discs were around two centimetres in diameter, shiny and curved. Reverently, she took them out, and inspected them.</p><p> </p><p>Two had the Papa Skull motif of a cartoonish skull, one in neon yellow and green, the other in pastel pink and blue. Another was a scene of a wheat field, the stalks bent as if being blown by the wind. “These are so pretty!”</p><p> </p><p>She plucked up the last one, and turned it over, to take a look.</p><p> </p><p>Jim scratched the back of his neck idly. “I thought you’d really like that one, cause, uh, you like Shakespeare.”</p><p> </p><p>A rose was in the centre, red and blooming with a thorny stalk pointing downwards. In curved scripture around the edges, it said :</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Claire took off her jacket, and pinned them on in the places where her old ones had come off. The fight with Draal had crushed or broken quite a few of the colourful decorations on the lapels, but the ones Jim gave her fit nicely. She shrugged it back on, loving the familiar feeling.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s really sweet of you, and you managed to get a line from <em> Romeo and Juliet </em>, too,” A little half smile played on her face, the left corner of her lip higher than her right. Jim thought she looked a little more like herself with her punkish jacket on, stronger almost. Like the way she dressed was her armour, instead of Merlin’s Amulet.</p><p> </p><p>Truth be told, it had been very hard finding a pin with a Shakespeare quote on it, but one hundred percent worth it if it meant getting closer to Claire. Because that was what Strickler had asked him to do, of course. There definitely wasn't any other reason why he wanted to get closer to Claire.</p><p> </p><p>He sighed in regret. Nomura was going to mock him to no end when she found out his high school crush was none other than the<em> Trollhunter. </em><br/><br/></p><p>                                                                                                                ---------</p><p> </p><p><em> I </em> <em> t was dark, so very, very dark, and yet Steve could see everything in clarity. Cramped, his small and young body was crouched in the corner, head banging on the ceiling each time he moved. Dust swam through the air, like dead and greying faeries, all the magick sucked out. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> There was a door, old and a fading orange, like acacia wood, with long black hinges and a rusty padlock keeping it shut. He kicked it with a weak little leg, again, and again, and again, and again, the actions already familiar, muscle memory in a nightmare. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Yet eventually he tired, falling down onto the freezing cold stone floor, and looked up at the ceiling, which wasn’t there. It was just an endless black, a night sky devoid of stars, gooey tentacles of darkness all wrapped together to create a horror. For a moment he thought there might be stars, but it was just the eyes - white, and unseeing, and so miniscule, specks really. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The chain connected to the padlock rattled, and the boy shot up, scrambling away as the shaking got louder, violent, huge crashes like thunder as someone was kicking to get in. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Whatever was trying to get in must have had many limbs, because after one kick was another, and another, so many that it could not be performed by two legs alone. Scratching, from long talons and claws started working their way into the wood, running through the natural grooves, sharp as nails. Each rip and tear at the door separating him and the monster was overlapping, hundreds upon hundreds of hands scratching to get in. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>TRY HARDER YOU IDIOT!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> From beneath the door, a crimson, waxy liquid began to ooze out, little streams and lakes pooling on the grey slabs. With a horrid realisation, he figured out that the blood must come from somewhere, and what if that somewhere was the fingertips worn down by all the clawing and scratching at the door? What if their skin was torn and ragged and ripped, yet they powered through because they wanted to get to Steve so bad? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Like loud claps of thunder, more people - animals, creatures, demons and devils - started to punch and hit the door, attempting to crack it like an eggshell, Steve being the yolk that runs out in streams of blood. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Something warm tickled his toes, the blood and pieces of skin inching closer and flooding over his feet, splashing about morbidly as he tried to scrabble away, but was stopped by the unforgiving walls. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>WORTHLESS!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The horrid, stenchy liquid rose higher and higher, the scratching and kicking and pounding on the door becoming an unbearable drumbeat in his ears that beat itself upon the drums of his ears. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>ALL OF IT! ALL OF THIS - IT IS WASTED ON YOU, STEVE-</em> </b>
</p><p>“-No, no, it’s not, it’s not…” He hiccuped, sat up in his bed with one knee pulled up to his chest. “...you’re not here…” His voice was soft and tearful, weak, quiet.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t had a nightmare about <em> her </em> in years.</p><p> </p><p>Scrunching up his duvet in his shaking fists, he held onto the fabric like an anchor, grounding him in his bedroom. Warm, salty liquid rolled and dropped onto his knuckles, spilling over the clammy skin. Tangled up in the bed sheets, due to the cold sweat soaking each layer of material that clung to his body, he reached for the fairy lights above his bed.</p><p> </p><p>Fumbling, he found the switch, and let his room be washed in orange light.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, able to see clearly, he wiped the tears from his eyes, and took in a long, deep breath.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ‘This is real, Steve, this is real.’ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>No shadows leaped at him from the corner, and when he suspiciously glanced at the door, nothing pooled out from underneath. A soft light came from the window, pinkish, to signal that the sun had begun to rise. There were no chains, no stone floors, no scratching, or banging, or pounding. Everything was as it should be.</p><p> </p><p>Except, for the <em> tree. </em> When Steve had gone to bed, there definitely had not been a <em> freaking tree </em> growing in his bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>Admittedly, it wasn’t much more than a sapling, but it rooted into his succulent pots, twisting upwards and outwards, climbing up the wall and knocking a few of his drawings to the floor. Each twig or branch was twisty as if it had been wound round a pole, dangling down and protruding with ridged green leaves. Frozen, mouth hanging agape, Steve traced the crawling, creeping wood with his eyes, wondering how in hell it had grown overnight.</p><p> </p><p>----------</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>  ...you’re fun to hang out with, and a bit of a badass too…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Claire stormed through Trollmarket, not letting any strange looks from the residents stop her. Last night, after her study session with Jim, she’d laid awake in bed and replayed her fight with Draal over and over.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ‘Yeah. I am a badass.’ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t going to let him beat her.</p><p> </p><p>The loud, boisterous chatters of Trollish came sprawling out of the pub, overwhelming her as she strode in, searching for a massive spiky blue troll.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Trollhunter? </em> More like <em> Trollhunted! </em> ” Draal slammed his cup down on the table, golden liquid sloshing all over. His dumb, brainless tanks of friends laughed along, one of them snorting liquid out of her nose. Blinky and AAARRGH were sitting at the table behind Draal, watching him in irritation, but unable to say anything. Once they noticed Claire storming over with a glaring fury in her eyes, Blinky started waving his hands in a mayday gesture as if to signal : <em> ‘What are you doing, small human?’ </em></p><p> </p><p>Ignoring him, she swept up a tankard left unattended on a table, the handle huge and robust in her small hand. Due to her diminutive stature, and perhaps everyone’s inebriated state, Claire was able to flit between trolls unnoticed. Her boots clapped loudly on the rocky floor, each step getting closer and closer to his hunched over, spiky back. The crystals were almost clear enough for her to see her own angry expression staring back at her.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey blue-butt!” She shouted at him, slamming the cup down onto the table with such a force that the whole structure shook and wobbled. Draal looked down at her with shock, the whole pub going into a tense silence. “I want a rematch!”</p><p> </p><p>Draal laughed, throwing back his head. “<em> Rematch? </em> As if such a puny fleshbag would have the skills to take <em> me </em> on a second time!” He scoffed.</p><p> </p><p>Claire pointed her thumb at herself, and then at him. “You. Me. Whenever you gain the guts to face me again.” She spat out, before turning and storming back onto the street. Tens of eyes watched her back, half of the trolls wondering if it had been a drunken hallucination.</p><p> </p><p>Muscles tense, she waited outside for Draal to run out and rip her spine from her flesh in anger.</p><p> </p><p>Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she spun around on instinct. “Miss Claire!” Blinky exclaimed, a proud smile on his face. AAARRGH lumbered behind him, also looking happy. His hair was wet on his face, like he’d spilt some of his drink.</p><p> </p><p>“I am so glad he did not kill you!” Blinky lifted up her arms, as if checking to see if she was real. Claire laughed a giddy, adrenaline-fueled laugh, but pushed him away, placing a hand on his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“I think you were right, Blinky. After the whole thing with Draal, I got in a fight with a human bully and I realised that punching him, was the right thing to do.” She looked him in the eye. “Draal’s the exact same - he needs someone to knock him down a peg, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>“...And you are sure that someone must be you, Miss Claire?” He sounded worried, but understood her reason. AAARRGH placed a hand on his shoulder, and told his partner, “<em> Changed </em>, Blinky.”</p><p>Blinky stared doey-eyed into AAARRGH's calming green irises, smiling gently.</p><p> </p><p>Claire suddenly remembered her phone was on silent, and pulled it out to check it, noticing some texts from Steve a few hours earlier.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>02:23 AM</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Steve : Claire, something really weird has happened, like something maybe troll-y but it might not be??? It could just be a freak of nature??</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Steve : Anyways I’m freaking out can u please come over later?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>She typed a reply back.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Don’t worry, I’m on my way.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>---------</p><p> </p><p>Nomura hummed along to the melody of Peer Gynt, gracefully lifting wooden crates filled with stones. She stacked them on top of each other, ready to be opened by whichever changelings were actually building the bridge.</p><p> </p><p>“Nomura!”</p><p> </p><p>She groaned. What was that youngling doing at the museum? Tonight wasn’t one of his training days. With a clawed finger, she turned off the symphony.</p><p> </p><p>“Nomura? Are you here?” Jim’s voice echoed around the looming walls of the museum, making his way towards the room with the bridge. He skirted around a suit of armour on display, it’s metal mask always creeping him out each time he came over. The museum was as familiar to him as his home, the long marble hallways able to be navigated with his eyes closed. Admittedly, he had enhanced hearing to aid him, which is why he could hear Nomura’s clacking hooves nearby.</p><p> </p><p>Turning the corner of a glass display case filled with Chinese pottery, he pulled back the heavy beige curtain and looked upon the sight of the Killahead bridge. Just being near the thing put him on edge, made him think that something ominous and dark was coming. His hackles rose, and he loosened his shoulders to calm himself.</p><p> </p><p>At least three or four times his height, the grey bridge was wide and robust, displaying a scene of battling trolls, strange symbols. To most, it would just look like an old bridge, eroded by age, but to a changeling’s eye it was obvious that parts had been pried out, rocks chipped off messily. A few wooden crates were stacked in a corner, next to Nomura’s record player. On them, words were printed in foreign languages he couldn’t read.</p><p> </p><p>Nomura heard him behind her, smelt his familiar scent, and went back to what she was doing, positioning a larger crate on the floor. The pink troll flicked her hair back, but did not acknowledge his presence in any way other than an annoyed, “What is it, <em> James? </em>” She knew he hated that name, his lips pulling downwards around his teeth.</p><p> </p><p>Jim was in his troll form, and he tapped his stone toes on the shiny ground in a rhythmic beat. “I’ve been looking for Strickler, but he’s not in his office, so could you pass a message onto him for when you next meet?” He asked hopefully, smiling politely even though she was not looking at him. Nomura picked up a crowbar from the floor, and poked it under the ridge of a crate.</p><p> </p><p>Her voice, as always, sounded like a scratchy sword being dragged across the ground, a faint growl always ending each sentence. “I suppose, as long as it’s short.” Pushing down on the crowbar, splintering wood resounded, and the lid popped upwards. Like tearing a sheet of paper, she ripped the rest of the planks off, discarding them on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>A horrid grin crept upon her face, long teeth glinting in the fluorescent light. A teetering laugh lasted less than a second. Jim walked over, looking above her shoulder into the crate, only to see a pile of dull, grey rocks. The largest of them, about a foot in length, had a circular imprint in it.</p><p> </p><p>“Are these for Killahead?” Crouching down, he tried to get a better look, but found they still just looked like rocks.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, that is correct. But these are not just any stones, this-” She pointed at the circle, a long finger unfurling “-is the most important part.”</p><p> </p><p>Jim realised it was about the same size and shape of the Amulet, and just as deep. “Wait, so that’s where the Amulet goes?” It looked a bit...ordinary. He lifted an eyebrow and went to touch it with his three-fingered hand, running a fingertip along the edge. “Doesn’t look as ornate as I thought it would.”</p><p> </p><p>Nomura slapped away his hand, and stood up, the rock cradled in her arms. “Whether it looks nice enough for you or not doesn’t matter. What matters is that it does its job, otherwise the centuries spent looking for all the pieces will be wasted.”</p><p> </p><p>Jim gestured to the almost complete bridge. “So you put the Amulet in, and then what happens?” The trollish faces carved into the sides seemed to stare at him with a murderous intent. </p><p> </p><p>Nomura shrugged, sharp shoulders piercing the air. “When you gain a higher rank, you will know,<em> Little Gynt </em>. Now what was it you wanted me to tell Stricklander?” She dodged the question easily, switching the topic.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve been keeping an eye on the Trollhunter - Like he asked, and I think she has an...<em> ally </em> of sorts.”</p><p> </p><p>Nomura turned serious, back straightening so that she towered over him even more. “What kind of ally? A powerful one?” She seemed unaffected, but a hint of anxiety rose in her voice. The spurs on her elbows clacked as she crossed the unnaturally long arms over her chest.</p><p> </p><p>Jim chuckled. “Yeah, I wouldn’t exactly call Steve<em> powerful </em> at anything other than high school sports, but it’s worth knowing that another human knows about Trollkind.” Jim absentmindedly ran a hand over his horn. “Or, well I <em> think </em> he’s in on it, but I don’t know for sure. I’ll have to look into it the next time I see Claire.”</p><p> </p><p>A clawed finger tapped on her long chin in thought.“<em> Claire? </em> ” Nomura hummed in amusement. “Isn’t she that <em> fleshbag </em> you once had a crush on?” Her lips were pulled into a wide, teasing grin, and she bent over to ruffle his hair roughly.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey-Stop!” Jim pulled away, face awash with a purple blush. “<em> No, </em> it’s a different Claire - And I don’t even like her anymore!” He lied, voice getting higher with every word. But she only sauntered past him, going to pick up another rock from the crate. He didn’t notice the melancholic look on her face.</p><p> </p><p>Nomura knew what it was like to have a lover on the opposition. She knew how much it hurt to lie to Draal each time he asked about her past. And when she betrayed him, a little piece of her soul burnt away to ashes, clogging up her heart.</p><p> </p><p>Little Gynt shouldn’t have to go through that pain, especially at such a young age.</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever you do, <em> don’t </em>get attached.” She told him in a stern voice, gripping the rock so hard that her claws started to make grooves in it, specks of dust raining onto the floor.</p><p>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay so this doesn't really do much for the plot, it's really just adding some extra scenes with the main characters.</p><p>I had Claire challenge Draal after having a meet up with Jim, because I didn't want her sole reason to be the fact that she hit someone - I didn't feel as though it was right for her character.</p><p>As always, comments and kudos are appreciated, if there are any questions just ask!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Gnome Your Enemy, part one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Claire meets Steve's wooden room mate, the Trollhunter loses something important to a gnome, and AAARRGH is suprisingly good with feelings.</p><p>(Uhl the Unforgiving begins his reign of terror)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The pizzeria kitchen seemed deserted, too quiet, unnaturally lacking any chaos. All the utensils were hung up on metal pegs along the walls, ingredients stacked on wheelable shelves. Without the ovens burning, the room was unusually cold. It was like all the life had been sucked out, and all that was left was an empty metal shell. Dimly, a fluorescent strip of light glowed from the ceiling, casting faded shadows on the tiles. </p><p> </p><p>Steve’s dad told Claire when she entered that no one was in this early on a Sunday, so it was just him and his son.</p><p> </p><p>His son, who had sent Claire a string of very confusing and slightly worrying texts earlier that morning.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Claire : Whats wrong?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Steve : There is a tree!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Steve : IN MY ROOM.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Steve : Just come over its hard to explain okay</b>
</p><p> </p><p>The older man led her to the door at the back of the kitchen, behind which was a carpeted staircase leading up to the flat. She made her way up the creaking flight, trapped by thin white walls. There were five doors, either closed or slightly ajar, the one leading to Steve’s room painted a nice light green. Shuffling noises came out from behind it.</p><p> </p><p>“Steve?” He called out as he stepped onto the landing. “Your friend Claire’s here to see you!” He called out in a joyful voice, clapping Claire on the shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment there was no reply, then there came a thud like someone dropped onto the floor. The door opened inwards, just enough for Steve to poke his head out but keep the rest of his room blocked.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes were wide, hair messed up and unbrushed, but relief swept over his face as he saw Claire. She, on the other hand, thought he looked a little unhinged. Deep, purple bags swept from his eyes, the corners tinged red from dried tears.</p><p> </p><p>“Claire!” He said, high pitched and a bit loud, his voice breaking. “C-come in!” One of his large hands stuck out, and he beckoned to her as she walked towards the room, only a metre or so away - their landing was small and cramped. In an uncomfortable manner, he kept the door close to his body, and nodded to his Dad as if to say. <em>'"nothin 'goin on here."</em></p><p> </p><p>Mr Palchuk sighed, watching his suspicious son with a resigned expression. “I don’t know what you guys are doing, but don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Steve’s face went red, and he rolled his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“Dad, we’re just hanging out, <em> jeez. </em>” Claire felt him grab her arm, and she was pulled inside, the door slamming behind her. His room was a mess, still as artful and colourful as ever, with his bed sheets rumpled and clothes strewn about the floor. But that wasn't what had caught her eye.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, I-Uh, I see what you meant by tree…” Behind the desk in front of her, it grew from a succulent pot, squishing the other plants to the side. Huge, twisting, and spindly thin, its branches climbed as arms and fingers across the wall, slowly creeping further. Green and curled in on itself, a leaf fluttered to the floor at her feet.</p><p> </p><p>He paced along the carpet in his barefeet, stressfully gesturing at the eldritch biological anomaly. “How the hell do I get rid of <em> this </em> ?” Steve said, gripping his hair in his head. He sat down on the edge of his bed, plucking up a fallen leaf and turning it over. “Claire, you’re clever, please tell me if you know <em> how </em> this is possible - Or even better, come up with an idea to hide it from my Dad?” His knee bobbed up and down nervously, ominously eyeing the trunk which had thickened considerably since he first saw it, increasing from a centimetre thick to two inches.</p><p> </p><p>Claire ran a hand along the smooth, light beige bark, all the way along till she found the end of a twig. It pushed along his paintings and drawings, a few of them having dropped to the floor after being knocked down by a wooden finger. Carefully, she tried not to step on any. “Steve, I-I have no idea how this could just grow like this…” In awe, she sat down next to him, hearing the mattress squeak below them. “Did it just...sprout up? Or were you growing a tree already?”</p><p> </p><p>“I was growing <em> succulents </em>, Claire, not a supernatural tree!” He retorted a little forcefully, gesturing at the twisting wood opposite them. She could have sworn a few more leaves had appeared since she entered the room.</p><p> </p><p><em> ‘Supernatural,’ </em> She thought to herself. <em> ‘Trolls are magical, right?’ </em></p><p> </p><p>She placed a hand on his arm, smiling gently. Looking quite scared, he met her eyes and let out a deep sigh. “I’ve just had a stressful night - Day, whatever.” </p><p> </p><p>Outside, a grey cloud began to roll, and indistinguishable birds flapped past. A string of rude words were rudely slurred outside on the street. “Don’t worry, Steve, I think maybe Blinky and AAARRGH will be able to help out - And I’ve got to go to training anyways.”</p><p> </p><p>He laughed darkly, dropping the leaf in his hands to the floor. “Guess the weird is just following us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to come with?” She really didn't want to be the only human in Trollmarket now that she'd butted heads with Draal three ties over the span of a few days.</p><p> </p><p>“And possibly get injured or chased by giant troll? <em> Yeah, </em> of course,” She glared at his sarcasm, but his little smirk told her that he would be with her.</p><p> </p><p>“Cool. Do you need any help covering it up from your Dad?”</p><p> </p><p>“Cover it up? With what?” He gestured around the chaotic room. “Haven’t got anything here that would cover up a possibly magical tree!”</p><p> </p><p>Claire sighed, standing up and looking at the beautiful annoyance. It was obviously starting to spread all over, like a cat that didn’t know the meaning of personal space. She plucked a leaf from it, and slid it into her pocket absentmindedly.</p><p> </p><p>“I think we’ll just have to leave it then, and<em> really </em> hope your Dad doesn’t try to clean your room whilst you're out.” Claire tried to picture the man with a feather duster, humming to a song as he cleaned the ridges of the tree's bark. She didn't share this image with Steve.</p><p> </p><p>He waved her off casually. “Nah - today’s <em> Great British Bakeoff </em> day. He’ll be in the lounge for at <em> least </em> the next three hours.”</p><p> </p><p>Claire chuckled, and opened the door by a smidge. Wincing, she asked him in a strained voice. “Also, do you remember Draal?”</p><p> </p><p>“The big blue scary guy who beat the crap out of you? Yeah, I remember him.” He pointed out the obvious, cocking his head to the side.</p><p> </p><p>Fingers scratched her scalp through her thick hair. “I, uh, I challenged him to a fight, kinda?” She smiled awkwardly, shrugging her shoulders. Steve’s eyes blew wide, and he stood up, almost poking his eye with a stray branch.</p><p> </p><p>“Y-you <em> what? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>                                                                                          ------------</p><p> </p><p>“For centuries, the troll and human worlds stood separate and at peace, divided by bridges that acted as doorways between our two realms.” He turned a yellowy page, six eyes glued to the leather-bound book. Blinky didn’t notice as Steve discreetly went on his phone and tapped on the screen.</p><p> </p><p>A look of sadness passed over his long, blue face. “But the Gumm-Gumms wanted to devour all of Mankind, led by Gunmar. The rest of Trollkind fought against him, culminating in the great battle of Killahead Bridge - the great portal to Gunmar’s Darklands. After many moons, good triumphed over evil.” When he next spoke, his voice was prideful, and AAARRGH seemed to perk up a bit. “And our great Trollhunter, Deya the Deliverer, locked Gunmar away, exiling him to the darklands and sealed the bridge with the Amulet.”</p><p> </p><p>With a flourish, he slammed the book closed and looked upon his listeners, the two humans leaning against AAARRGH on the floor. Steve, who was reading something on his phone in interest, Claire, who looked thoroughly confused and as if she had a million questions, and AAARRGH, who ditzily smiled at Blinky with his chin resting in his hands. He hadn’t really been listening to a word Blinky had said, but enjoyed watching the facial expressions he made when he read.</p><p> </p><p>At least the Trollhunter herself seemed to have been paying attention. She raised her hand, as if she were in a lesson.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Miss Claire?”</p><p> </p><p>“How, uh, how do you lock someone in a bridge? Like, Gundar’s in these <em> Darklands </em>, but where is that?” The word ‘Darklands’ was punctuated by the wiggling of her fingers in a creepy manner.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, firstly, it’s <em> Gunmar </em> , not ‘Gundar’.” He raised two fingers. “And secondly, no one is actually entirely sure where the Darklands <em> are </em>, only that it is not somewhere one would like to be trapped.”</p><p> </p><p>Claire stood up, stretching out her limbs with a series of groans and clicks. “Well, thanks for the history sesh Blink, but when do I actually get to learn some more fighting?” She readied her fists, and punched an imaginary opponent with vigour.</p><p> </p><p>Steve switched off his phone and shoved it in a pocket, placing a hand on AAARRGH’s arm to help him to his feet. “Yeah, no offense to your teaching style, but Claire’s facing Draal at some point-”</p><p> </p><p>“In a week.  He informed Arghaumont and myself that it would be his desired time.” Blinky explained, as if that wasn’t dangerously near.</p><p> </p><p>“A <em> week?” </em> Claire asked in shock, jaw dropping. “I only have <em> a week </em> to learn how to fight Draal?” She stopped acting out fight moves, her whole body deflating.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky stood up, crossing both sets of arms across his chest. From the floor, AAARRGH watched them all without saying anything. <em>“Exactly,</em> Miss Claire. It is not nearly adequate time for you to become a superior fighter, and thus, you must train yourself as well in the art of strategy.” He pointed to the heavy book.</p><p> </p><p>AAARRGH hummed thoughtfully. “Home-work?”</p><p> </p><p>Snapping his fingers, Blinky grinned, though both Steve and Claire looked confused/horrified.</p><p> </p><p>Like a teacher about to give his students a Saturday detention, he grinned and stared down the humans. “Ah, yes, thank you for reminding me, AAARRGH.” He picked up the book on the floor, and passed it to Claire. She took it in both hands, finding it surprisingly heavy. “I will be lending you books from my collection for you to read and study. It is what you young humans refer to as ‘home-work’, is it not?” He supposed he was as close to a teacher as Claire was going to get.</p><p> </p><p>In her small grip, the book was blocky and rough, at least a hundred thick yellowing pages bound together and wrapped in a strip of leather. A golden moon, in a crescent was painted or dyed onto the front, contrasting with the brown background. “<em> Wow </em>, this is such a pretty book, Blink.” Delicately, she ran a finger over the edges, feeling the worn surface. “Are you sure you don’t mind me borrowing it?” She could already imagine all the ways Enrique could ruin it with his chubby little hands. Or how her mother could throw it in the trash without a second thought.</p><p> </p><p>He waved her off, smiling at her interest in literature. Very rarely did a warrior Trollhunter also indulge in academics. “Of course you may borrow it! How else are you to learn about Trollkind in your own time?”</p><p> </p><p> Whilst she slotted it in her backpack, Blinky continued talking. “It is a Brief Recapitulation of Troll Lore, volume one of forty seven, by the Venerable Bedehilde.”</p><p> </p><p>Claire’s eyes sparkled with delight. “One of <em> forty seven? </em>” She squealed out, almost childlike. Laughing, Blinky patted her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“I am glad to see you take such an interest, Miss Claire. If ever you wish to read another, you are more than welcome to peruse my collection.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve raised a hand timidly, stepping forwards. “That sounds pretty good, you know, book wise, but I still don’t see how this will help her beat Draal.” Claire also looked downcast suddenly, remembering that she very much did not stand a chance.</p><p> </p><p>“Do not worry, Steven.” Blinky said in a consoling voice, threading his fingers together.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s <em> Steve </em>,” He muttered, so quiet that only AAARRGH heard him, and chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky had the ‘upcoming lecture’ face, taking in a deep breath to propel all his words. “To learn what may happen in the future, one must only look to the past! Just look at the case of the hydra infestation on page ninety eight!”</p><p> </p><p>Claire mentally stored that information away for later, hastily sharing a look with Steve. “I’ll uh, read about it, then. But there was actually something me and Steve wanted to ask-”</p><p> </p><p>“Trollhunter!” A large, boisterous troll came bumbling into the Forge, heading straight for Blinky and pushing Steve to the side. Luckily, AAARRGH caught him in a meaty hand.</p><p> </p><p>Panting, she rested her hands on her knees, an overall sense of panic surrounding her. “What is it Bagdwella?” Blinky asked in alarm, nervously making eye contact with his partner, who shrugged his wide shoulders. “Is it the Heartstone?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, No!” She wailed, throwing her hands up in the air. Everyone gathered around her.</p><p> </p><p>“Stalkling?” AAARRGH rumbled, tipping his head to the side. </p><p> </p><p>Steve groaned, looking up at the ceiling with an annoyed expression on his face. “<em> Please </em> don’t tell me it’s Bular…” But Bagdwella shook her head, Diving forwards into Claire’s personal space where she shouted,</p><p> </p><p>“No!<em> Gnome! </em> ” She placed her hands onto either side of her head, as if with a splitting headache. <em> “Rogue gnome!” </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>                                                                                                                ------------ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Bagdwella’s shop was clustered and messy, but also rather eclectic in a nice way. It reminded Claire of the thrift stores she visited with her friends. Glowing gems in hues of green, blue, and pink hung from the ceiling on threads like fairy lights, illuminating her stock dimly. As if someone had organised a dumping ground, all of Bagdwella’s items were old human appliances or clothes, cluttered into piles on the floor or shelves. She stood behind a stone bar like a human cashier behind a till, ready to take an order.</p><p> </p><p>Claire and Blinky stepped carefully into the premises, watchful for small gnomes that zipped along the floor with childlike giggles. Steve and AAARRGH were outside, the former claiming that he didn’t want to get pick pocketed, and the latter knowing that with his large size he would probably just get in Claire’s way.</p><p> </p><p>Without her jacket, she shivered, but had bequeathed it to Steve so that none of her pins would get stolen.</p><p> </p><p>“First I couldn’t find my monocle, then my collection of bedsprings!” Bagwela stalked around, throwing her hands in the air. “Now something disappears every minute!” When she opened her mouth, she displayed rows of small yet dangerously sharp teeth. With a yelp, she fell over, one of the little critters tripping her by racing beneath a tiny foot.</p><p> </p><p>The gnome tittered, becoming a blur that knocked over a stack of cans, one of which rolled to Claire’s feet.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky tried to give the shopkeeper a hand up, but was swatted away. “<em> Oh </em>, dirty little pests!” She wiped dust off her leather skirt, knocking the skull at her belt. In her hand was a strip of dirty yellow, one dainty skeleton stuck to it. “Up till last week, the glue traps were working fine!”</p><p> </p><p>Claire stared at the skeleton, still with its red hat, and felt a pang of empathy for the trapped thing. However, she supposed that it was probably just the trollish equivalent of trapping a mouse.</p><p> </p><p>Giving what was supposed to be a sweet smile, but came across as more threatening, Bagdwella put her hands in a begging motion. “Fix it, Trollhunter?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, but I’m not exactly a<em> Gnomehunter </em> - I have no idea how to fix this!” She pointed at a gnome, which was currently nibbling through a sock with violent intensity.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, actually, Miss Claire, the Trollhunter is required to take <em> every </em> call.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” He nodded in reply, and Bagdwella huffed, using a broom to try and swat it.</p><p> </p><p>“So, some troll could come up to me because they’ve got a spider in their bed, or something pointless like that, and I’d have to help them?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh okay, maybe not for things as frivolous as that. But a rogue gnome can become quite a venerable nuisance to a whole community, if left unchecked.” He spread his arms imploringly, urging her to help.</p><p>Claire rolled her eyes, but pushed up her sleeves and knelt on the ground, looking underneath tables and chests for a red pointy hat. “What do I do with it once I’ve found it?” Her hand kicked up a cloud of dust on the uncleaned floor, causing her to go into a coughing fit.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky started to answer, but was interrupted by strums of a guitar coming from a high alcove. The gnome revealed itself, grinning with needle teeth and singing in gibberish. Like a street busker, it sat on the edge of a stone and swung its legs, playing a sweet tune.</p><p> </p><p>The blue troll growled, and placed a hand on Claire’s shoulder. “Do not get close - he is distracting us to take our valuables.”</p><p> </p><p>She turned her head to make eye contact with him. “How? He can’t reach my pocket-” The red blur jumped, and like a comet, hurtled upon Claire. Little claws dug into her shirt as it scaled her to get to the back pocket of her mini skirt. She moved and scrabbled to get it off, but missed every time, watching as it ran away in glee.</p><p> </p><p>“Damn! Little shit!” She cursed, fists balled at her sides.</p><p> </p><p>“That is quite accurate-” Six eyes widened, and he grabbed Claire’s shoulders to speak into her face. “The Amulet! Did it take it?” She didn’t even need to check with her hand - the pocket felt considerably lighter. Blinky noticed by her faltering face that he was correct.</p><p> </p><p>Letting out a shriek of delight, the gnome waved at them, a blue Amulet clutched in his grimy hands. Claire made a dive for him but missed, dropping onto the hard floor and watching as he disappeared down a tiny hole. </p><p> </p><p>Peering down it, she saw nothing but pitch black darkness, and heard tiny footsteps pattering further away.</p><p> </p><p>                                                                 -----------</p><p>The two of them had been in the shop for a little while, and Steve was starting to get worried. Claire’s jacket felt heavy, held in his hands. Perched on the edge of a rock, leaning against AAARRGH, he typed something into the search engine of his phone.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tree grown overnight </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Nothing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tree growing without being planted </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Nothing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Trees growing in bedrooms. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Nothing - except a weird advert about tree nightwear he did<em> not </em> want to click on.</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, he turned it off, bouncing it against his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that a phone?” He asked, unsure of how to pronounce the word properly. His green head bowed over Steve, eyes widened in curiosity. Smiling, the teenager patted his arm.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, Big Guy, you wanna take a closer look?” He held the phone out, allowing AAARRGH to pinch it delicately in his hard fingers. Bringing it up to his eyes, he squinted and inspected the plastic reverently.</p><p> </p><p>Steve chuckled. “There’s nothing special about it - pretty much everyone has-” He was cut off by a yawn that forced his mouth open. Failing, he tried to hide his fatigue. “Uh, has one.”</p><p> </p><p>Concerned, AAARRGH ran a finger through Steve’s golden hair, as if trying to comfort him. The movement was jilted and rough, as if the giant was unsure how. “You tired?”</p><p> </p><p>From inside the shop, someone yelped, and a load of small objects crashed.</p><p> </p><p>“I guess so? I had a bit of a nightmare last night, and…” He looked down at his hands, not quite knowing how to put it into words. “Well, it just freaked me out a load.”</p><p> </p><p>AAARRGH hummed in acknowledgement, staring off at a glowing purple crystal. “Me too. I get nightmares too.” He passed the phone back to Steve delicately, taking care not to break it in his strong grip. “But talking...good. I talk to Blinky, and he helps.” To demonstrate, AAARRGH held a hand over his heart, making a soft clunky sound.</p><p> </p><p>Steve shuffled where he sat. “That’s nice - It’s good, you know, that you take care of each other.”</p><p> </p><p>The gentle troll laughed in agreement. “Yes, me and Blinky…” He searched for the right word, linking his fingers together as a symbol. “We <em> aid </em> the other.”</p><p> </p><p>The blond felt a pang of sadness. It must be nice feeling that with someone.</p><p> </p><p>“So, do you talk, to anyone?” AAARRGH asked in a warm voice, shuffling closer to Steve. They were in a quieter area of the market, the Heartstone creating a nice, mellow glow over the rocks.</p><p> </p><p>He scratched his head, and thought on it a bit. He had his Dad, and he was always there for him when he needed help, or advice. But his Dad was the one person he could<em> never</em> go to if he had nightmares. It would only stir up bad memories and make him sadder.</p><p> </p><p>Claire? Could he talk to Claire? He felt they were getting closer, <em> friends </em> really, but not to the point where he felt as though he could give her something so personal.</p><p> </p><p>“Umm, no I don’t-I don’t really <em> talk </em> to anyone. At least not about nightmares.”</p><p> </p><p>AAARRGH frowned, and Steve hung his head so he wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Showing the teen gently, he grabbed his attention. “Maybe Steve, talk to AAARRGH?” He asked hopefully, raising a stony eyebrow. His voice was slow, carefully picking each word he used as if he wasn’t confident with how he sounded.</p><p> </p><p>Talking to AAARRGH? Steve couldn’t really see a downside. The grey rocky guy was open and caring, seemingly as passive and laid back as a daisy. After all, it wasn't as if he could go up to the surface and spill Steve's nightmares to other humans.</p><p> </p><p>His knee started bobbing up and down, shaking. “I-I mean, would you tell anybody?” He asked timidly, and AAARRGH shook his head, green hairs flipping around his horns. He tapped a finger to his lips.</p><p> </p><p>“No one. Between you-” He poked Steve in the chest playfully, then himself. “-and me.” Patiently, he sat back on the ground, pushing his stubby legs outwards and waited for Steve to continue.</p><p> </p><p>Running a hand through his hair, he grabbed the jacket in his hands tighter, praying that none of the waterworks would start up. “I had a nightmare, but it was like, a memory?” Nodding, the troll listened without interrupting. “So there were things, that s-she was saying, that I remember, but what was happening, it-it,” A tear rolled down his cheek, and he sniffled. “It wasn’t anything normal. It was just really scary.” Whispering, he blinked back any future drops of salted water.</p><p> </p><p>Clearing his throat, Steve tried not to appear too sad, straightening up and smiling without his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>ARRRGH furrowed his brows, the corners of his lips turning down in concern. “Who is,<em> ‘she’? </em>” The boy’s whole frame froze up, like someone had shocked him, and he stared dumbly at the floor. “You don’t have to-”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no it’s okay for asking, big guy.” He took a deep breath, and spoke with a quiet, tired voice, his whole body slumping. “She uh, she was my Mom.” A strained, small laugh escaped him depressingly. “B-but, she wasn’t very good at it.”</p><p> </p><p>AAARRGH was about to ask something else, but Blinky and Claire came out of the shop, both with a defeated look on their faces. Steve hastily wiped the tears from his eyes and stood up, straightening out.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t understand - shouldn’t the Amulet come back to me?” Claire had her hands on her hips, dirt streaked up her forearms and a new ladder in her tights.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky grimaced. “Only if you give it away of your own free will. When taken, the Amulet stays gone, unfortunately.”</p><p> </p><p>She scoffed, brushing the dust from an elbow. “<em> Wow, </em> that’s one major design flaw. When do I get to have a chat with this Merlin guy?”</p><p> </p><p>Steve handed her jacket over, watching her shrug it on and then flip her hair over the back of the navy collar. “What happenned with the gnome?” He asked imploringly, but he guessed it wasn’t good news due to Claire’s disgruntled expression.</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh. Well, the little critter stole my Amulet, and I have no idea how to get it back!” She turned to Blinky again, raising a thin eyebrow. “Can’t the Troll world survive without the Trollhunter for a while?”</p><p> </p><p>Blinky excahnged a look with AAARRGH as if to say : <em>'Human teenagers, do you believe them?'</em></p><p> </p><p>“Well, I suppose they could, but that is besides the point!” Exasperated, he huffed and started pacing. “If only those spindly human arms of yours were long enough to reach all the way into that hole of thievery,”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” Both Steve and Claire protested, though they went ignored, the blue troll muttering something under his breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps...Yes….Too big...Aha!” He grinned toothily, raising a finger into Claire’s face. “I believe I may have a solution!” The Trollhunter did not like the mischievous glint in his eyes, and she shied away. “If the gnome will most likely not come out, then the Trollhunter must go in!”</p><p> </p><p>She laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I may be small for a human, but I’m not <em> that </em> small.”</p><p> </p><p>Blinky cackled, clapping her on the shoulder. “Not <em> currently </em>, you aren’t!”</p><p> </p><p>AAARRGH got up, and walked over to Blinky. “<em> Bad </em>idea.” He reminded him, as if this happened often.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky huffed. “I know, Arghaumont. But no Trollhunter has <em>ever</em> lost the Amulet before!” He hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his carved chin. “We’ll need time to procure the Furgolator.”</p><p> </p><p>“The whatsitnow?” Claire asked, butting in. Blinky spread his arms out in a non committal gesture.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, don’t you worry, Miss Claire - the two of you should tend to your studies. AAARRGH and I will watch over the hole.” He ushered them forwards, leading them towards the crystal blue staircase. “Return tomorrow, and I’m sure we’ll have a solution to this pint-sized problem!”</p><p> </p><p>                                                                                                           -----------</p><p> </p><p>Uhl scratched and scraped on the chalkboard, listening to Mary give her report in a shaky, unsure voice.</p><p> </p><p>Claire and Steve sat next to each other at the back of the class, Jim a few rows ahead of them. She stared dreamily at the back of his shiny black hair, not concentrating on what Steve was saying. </p><p> </p><p>“-And now it’s grown even more!” Throwing his hands up in frustration, he waited for a reply, but got none. The punkish girl was resting her face on her fist, a dumb smile on her lips. He waved a hand in front of her face, startling her. “You didn’t hear anything I said, did you?”</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head solemnly, and winced at Mary’s bad accent. “Sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“I bet, Lake slipped something in your milkshake the other day - made you go all lovey-dovey.”</p><p> </p><p>She slapped his arm playfully, grinning. “He did not!” Pointing at the pins on her lapels, she leaned back comfily into the plastic chair. “The only thing he gave me were these pretty pins!”</p><p> </p><p>Steve rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and tapping the end of his pencil against the desk rhythmically. His gaze kept wandering to the door, where he hoped Eli would eventually come in. Although, if the guy wanted to take a break from school, he couldn’t blame him.</p><p> </p><p>Uhl’s horrid scraping stopped, and he turned around slowly, eyes dark and filled with a controlled rage. Stalking, he went around the desk and loomed over the young girl at the front of the class. “What kind of heart did Maria have, Miss Wang?”</p><p> </p><p>With her big eyes, she frantically looked over her paper, finding the right line. “A-a heavy heart - <em> Pedoso </em> - Or wait, was-”</p><p> </p><p>“I certainly hope Maria does not have a <em> pedoso </em> heart,” He leaned in closer to her cowering figure. “Because that would mean <em> ‘gassy’ </em> Did Maria have a <em> gassy heart, Miss Wang?” </em></p><p> </p><p>Sniffling, she held the report to her chest, scrunching up the papers. “No, no I-”</p><p> </p><p>“You meant<em> pesado </em> - a heavy heart.” Pulling out a tissue, he gave it to her, watching her slink back to her seat in shame. “And it is with a heavy heart, I tell you, you have not shown the slightest comprehension of the basic spanish!”</p><p> </p><p>On the verge of tears, she scrambled back to her desk and sniffled, the whole class going silent. The Austrian man sighed, leaning against his desk.  “If you can’t even finish the exam, I’ll have no choice but to fail you.” He didn’t sound as if he felt even an ounce of remorse.</p><p> </p><p>Steve nudged Claire with his elbow, whispering low so Uhl wouldn’t hear them. “Isn’t it<em> your </em> presentation tomorrow, Claire?” She huffed, folding her arms behind her head and leaning back cozily.</p><p> </p><p>“And? I’m pretty much fluent!” She poked him in the chest. “You should be worrying about your <em> own </em> presentation next week!”</p><p> </p><p>Groaning, he banged his head against the desk, ignoring Claire’s smile.</p><p> </p><p>                                                                                                      ----------------</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Claire!” Darci shouted, running up to her friend. Her face fell when she saw the tall blond standing next to her. Shooing him away, she hissed out, “We have <em> girl talk </em> Steve - move it.”</p><p> </p><p>He raised his hands in surrender and backed off, making his way out of the school courtyard. “Meet me at the bridge later?” He called back, and Claire nodded. </p><p> </p><p>“So, what is it Darce?” Smiling sweetly, she leaned against the lockers, but her friend didn’t smile back. Her brown eyes simmered in annoyance.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Claire </em>. Last night was the second time you forgot to come over and study with me!” Darci exclaimed, placing a hand on a hip. “I swear, the past week you’ve been acting so weird - me and Mary are worried about you!”</p><p> </p><p>She lowered her eyes, struggling to come up with an excuse - there were only so many times ‘babysitting’ could be used. “I’m fine, really. It’s just, I’ve been getting stressed about school, and the play, and Steve’s…” His vespa drove away, creating a vrooming sound that they heard. “Steve’s just been helping me out.”</p><p> </p><p>Darci crossed her arms in disbelief. “Really? <em> Steve’s </em> been helping you?” One of her sharp eyebrows perked up condescendingly. “Pretty sure he can’t even count to ten!”</p><p> </p><p>“Darci, it’s-it’s none of your business, alright?” She said a bit loudly, snarling almost. The stress of the past week was getting to her.</p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t tell Darci, and she couldn’t tell Mary, because the two of them were just so...normal. They were normal girls with normal school and normal parents, no magic or trolls or murderous rampaging monsters. Claire couldn’t put them in the danger she stood amongst.</p><p> </p><p>“Just, leave me alone for a little bit, okay?” She spun around and stalked away, not looking back as Darci’s face fell.</p><p> </p><p>                                                             -----------</p><p> </p><p>They were all gathered in a small room next to Blinky’s library, the ceiling low and the lighting dim. Something roughly the same height and width of Blinky was stood up in the middle of the room, covered by a dark brown tarp. Claire eyed it suspiciously.</p><p> </p><p>“You remember how I told you all Trollhunters must start small?” Blinky asked enthusiastically, a large grin on his face.</p><p> </p><p>Claire tried to guess what was hidden. “Not really, but go on,” She gestured at the object with intrigue.</p><p> </p><p>With a flourish, his blue hands pulled off the tarp and let it flop on the ground, revealing a golden closet, its doors cleaving a trollish face in half. The top of it tapered to a point like a metal-tiled roof, the heavy lidded eyes with a lightning bolt down their irises as if they’d crack open sideways, like a snake. What looked like organ pipes protruded from the back like a headdress, rattling and producing steam when Blinky pulled down a lever. Cogs turned from within, creating a grinding noise, and the whole body shook with energy before coming to a still.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Oh my God </em> please don’t tell me I have to get inside that thing.” Claire grimaced, already knowing that it wasn’t going to end well for her. Steve clapped her on the back, grateful that <em> he </em> wasn’t chosen to be the gnome-hunter.</p><p> </p><p>He chuckled, tapping the tips of his fingers together in clacky hits. “I’m afraid I’m actually about to ask you to do just <em> that </em>, Miss Claire.” Apologetically he kicked the metal exterior, and the doors swung open along with a hissing from the pipes. Inside, it looked like a cross between a sauna and an iron maiden. Many holes spilled out golden light, like hundreds of spotlights on a golden stage. A cloud of steam rolled out, dissipating onto the ground.</p><p> </p><p>AAARRGH frowned, coming up behind Steve. “Still bad idea…” He tried to remind them, but no one listened. Claire slowly crept inside the contraption, gulping as the doors closed and clicked shut, her only window to the outside being a grate that appeared from between the golden eyes. When she spoke, her voice was muffled like she was behind a window.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, uh Blink? I’m gonna be fine, right?” Her voice was high pitched, her arms shaking with adrenaline. <em> ‘This gnome better be worth it.’ </em> She bitterly thought to herself.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh I assure you, it is most likely safe-”</p><p> </p><p>“Most likely?” Steve squeaked out, anxiously looking at Claire’s sweaty face.</p><p> </p><p>“And if the Gnome won’t come out, the Trollhunter must go in!” Ecstatically, he raised a hand in the air, and started fiddling for something in his many pouches and pockets.</p><p> </p><p>“Woah, what do you mean, <em> go in?” </em></p><p> </p><p>Blinky ignored her, still patting down his leather belt. “Where is it? I swore I had it just a minute-”</p><p> </p><p>AAARRGH placed a hand on his arm, and passed him a small, stub of a grey rock. “I safekeep.” He reminded him humorously. The blue troll politely pushed off his grip, and placed the rock in a small hole on the side of the golden casket. “Now, for the anthracite!”</p><p> </p><p>It made a few clattering sounds, obviously falling into place within the machinery.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky walked over so that he could look through the grate, right into the young Trollhunter’s brown eyes. “I wouldn’t worry, Miss Claire, we’ve used the furgolator quite a few times to compress minerals before - I don’t see why it wouldn’t work on flesh and bone.” </p><p> </p><p>She nodded, shaking out her shoulders and trying to relax herself. “Okay, okay, you got this. Do it then, Blink.” He briskly inclined his head towards her, and pulled down a lever on the side of the exterior. The three of them stepped back, watching as a sandy smoke clouded over Claire, the machine shaking violently and pumping out a fog of steam. Parts clattered and clicked, pistons pumping and fuel burning.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s with the smoke?” She asked, coughing. Her whole body felt constricted and tight, her skin shifty and loose on her bones. Puke made its way to her mouth, but she held it in.</p><p> </p><p>After what felt like an hour of itchiness, the doors opened with a creak, and she walked out. With a hand, she cleared the smoke from her eyes, walking into a large blue rock.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘Hey, that wasn’t there before,’</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Guys, where are you…” Her voice trailed off and her jaw went slack, staring up and up and up at the three giants surrounding her.</p><p> </p><p>“Shit.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okaaay, this chapter was pretty fun to write, especially the scene with AAARRGH and Steve talking to eachother!</p><p>Claire honey, I wouldn't be looking forward to your Spanish presentacion if I were you...</p><p>Also, I know I said updates would be on both Mondays and Fridays, but school just started up, so it'll probably just be Fridays from now on.<br/>Please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed this, and I always appreciate questions!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Gnome Your Enemy, part two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Claire completes her first Trollhunting mission, and Steve gains a roomate.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The gnome hole was not that different from a cartoon mouse-hole in a wall. Except for the putrid smell that wafted out from it, and the random knick-knacks hanging from the ceiling. Claire poked her head in, shivering in its chill.</p><p> </p><p>“Wow, isn’t this just great…” She muttered to herself, testing the weight of the tiny shield Blinky had gifted her. It was made of a pin, but thankfully not one of her own. “If I don’t make it out of here, just promise me you won’t shrink down the<em> next </em>Trollhunter!” She shouted up at Blinky’s face, her fist balled.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, do not worry, Miss Claire. A gnome is nothing compared to one who has struck against Bular! I have no doubt you will make it back to us in one piece.” He seemed completely confident in this, grinning. AAARRGH pointedly did not meet Claire’s eyes, fiddling with something in his hands as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.</p><p> </p><p>“But I have exams to take, plays to act in! I can’t do that if I’m smaller than a goddamn pencil!” She mimed with her free hand, displaying her miniscule stature.</p><p> </p><p>Steve looked as if he’d just remembered something, and he started rummaging around in his pockets, pulling out a few pieces of crumpled paper that fluttered to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky sighed, and smiled gently at her. “You won’t be this way permanently - I assume the effects will wear off by the time you awaken tomorrow morning.” AAARRGH nodded in agreement behind his partner, as if he had evidence to back this up.</p><p> </p><p>“You <em> assume?” </em>She screeched, her fist tightening around the pin.</p><p> </p><p>“Aha!” Steve proclaimed in a Blinkous-like manner, raising a scratched pencil in the air triumphantly. He bent over, and pointed it at her chest. “Think you might need a weapon?” Smiling slyly, he poked the pink rubber into her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Claire yanked it from his hand with a surprising strength, and gave him a little prick with the sharpened end. He yelped, and jumped back.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I think I might need a weapon!” She hissed out with vigour, taking up a pose like a knight with a lance. Taking a deep breath, she turned her back on them, and crept through the gnome’s tunnel. She heard Steve whisper a ‘good luck’ to her.</p><p> </p><p>The walls and ceiling were jagged and scratched, like they had been dug by an animal over many years, worn into the bluish-grey stone. As she walked, her footsteps echoed, and she daintily dodged the various objects hanging in her path. A purple sock gave off such a bad whiff that she had to hold her breath as she walked past it.</p><p> </p><p>“One last thing, Miss Claire,” Claire rolled her eyes, carrying on forwards as Blinky’s voice got quieter and quieter. “This is of <em> dire </em> importance : <em> Do not touch its hat!” </em></p><p>His ominous words ricochet all around her, leaving only the empty silence afterwards. So tense, she felt as if the gnome could jump out at any second.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yes, well that was obvious already!” She shouted back at him, sarcastically.</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” He asked her in shock, pressing a single eye to the hole.</p><p> </p><p>“NO!” She threw her hands out to the sides, and shouted at him.</p><p> </p><p>Claire continued further,half-listening to Blinky’s grumbles behind her, sweeping past glowing purple gems and dangling grey wires, fraying and dulled. She could no longer hear AAARRGH, or Steve, Or Blinky, the only sounds being her own short, shallow breaths.</p><p> </p><p>“H-here, gnomey, gnomey, gnomey…” She croaked out, pencil at the ready. Not looking where she was going, she walked face-first into a hanging raggedy-ann head, red woolen hair drooping dejectedly. The cotton face was water stained, one button missing. Something right out of a child’s nightmare.</p><p> </p><p>“Huh. So he’s got a thing for redheads.” Claire muttered, though the humour was more for her own benefit than as an insult to the thieving gremlin.</p><p> </p><p>The tunnel started to widen, lengthening into a cavernous area where the culprit happily giggled, chumming up with a red-hatted skeleton. Its laughs were horrid and high-pitched, out of tune like a clown’s. She stayed out of its sight for a while, half-hidden behind an outcrop of rock.</p><p> </p><p>It started gesturing to the clatter of objects on the glowing amulet, getting increasingly angry as the skeleton made no effort to join in with the excitement. Typical skeleton.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes landed on where it rested two tankards of a piss-yellow liquid. <em> “My Amulet,” </em> Claire hissed under her breath, eyeing the gnome’s new coffee table with contempt. The Daylight Amulet seemed to say to her <em> ‘not my fault, you’re the one who wasn’t paying attention to the gnome…’  </em></p><p> </p><p>Whilst it drunkenly tried to raise a pint to it’s boney friend, the tip of the mug knocked off its skull, letting it clatter to the ground. As if in slow motion, it rolled to a still at Claire’s feet. Hollow eyeholes looked up at her longingly.</p><p> </p><p>They locked eyes, both of them shocked, until its thin lips pulled back over the needle teeth, letting out a yowling snarl.</p><p> </p><p>“Ohh <em> fu- </em>” Claire breathed as it came barreling towards her in the style of a bull, narrowly dodging out of the way. The dusty floor crashed into her as she fell. Her shield/pin rolled out of a clenched hand, skirting along the floor where it accidentally tripped it up, eliciting a yell of annoyance.</p><p> </p><p>Glowing, the blue Amulet seemed to call out to her, only a few feet away. If she crawled on her bruised arms, she might be able to get there before the gnome got back up again.</p><p> </p><p>“Hnngh..come...closer!” She hissed out, shakily pulling her chest along the ground, aware of the gnome scuttling closer. Just as it reached out a pudgy hand to her ankle, she spun around, stabbing it in the chest with the sharp end of the pencil. A high-pitched roar echoed around her, the gnome falling onto its backside once more almost comically.</p><p> </p><p>Her heartbeat beat loudly in her ears, sweat dripping on her face as she inched closer and closer to the silver disk, eyes straying to the headless skeleton.</p><p> </p><p>Beneath her fingertips, the metal was cool, and flowing with a familiar magical energy.</p><p> </p><p>“For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command!”</p><p> </p><p>                                                      -----------</p><p> </p><p>“Are you <em> absolutely </em> sure you do not have any left?”</p><p> </p><p>“For the last time, Blinkous! I do not take shipments of dwarkstones anymore! Not after that<em> last </em>fiasco, at least…”</p><p> </p><p>The two trolls argued at the back of the store, satirically trading lines back and forth. Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to know what <em> ‘dwarkstones’ </em> were, but Blinky seemed pretty intent on getting his four hands on some. Steve paced back and forth around the gnome-hole, checking it every few seconds to see if Claire had returned.</p><p> </p><p>AAARRGH thumbed through Steve’s sketchbook, leaning his wide back against a bare wall. The delicate pages were fondly flicked by immovable stone fingertips. Green eyes widened in curiosity, recognising a few gems and buildings from the Trollmarket converted into pencil drawings. “These <em> good, </em> Steve.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” He stopped pacing, twiddling his fingers anxiously. “Oh, yeah, those. Thanks, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>A few scrabbling noises came from the hole, but when he looked all he could see was darkness and trash.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, don’t you think Claire’s been in there for a while?” He asked AAARRGH with uncertainty, tapping a foot on the floor. Green hair swayed as he shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Just a gnome. Claire…” He rolled his eyes upwards, as if searching for the word at the back of his mind. “Claire <em> sux-seed.” </em> The word was clunky, unsure sounding. Steve didn’t think English was his first language - perhaps it was what he sometimes heard other trolls speak around the market.</p><p> </p><p>“You sure?” Steve asked in a whiny voice.</p><p> </p><p>AAARRGH nodded his head slowly. “Sure.” Then he went back to the sketchbook, flipping over a page to reveal-</p><p> </p><p>“-Blinky?” The sketchbook was turned sideways, and held up to his face. Huffing happily, he said it again, smiling down at the page. “Blinky!”</p><p> </p><p>Steve wandered over, pulling on the thick grey arm to lower down so that he could see the page. Sure enough, it was the sketch he’d made of the scholarly troll a few days earlier. He chuckled. “Yeah, I did that one a while ago. D’you like it?”</p><p> </p><p>AAARRGH nodded his head enthusiastically. “Yes, very accurate.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’m glad.” Steve awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, unused to the praise.</p><p> </p><p>Green eyes sparked with hope, and he held the sketchbook up to his chest, off-white pages brushing against his fur. “I keep?” He asked awkwardly, staring into Steve’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Taking the book back, he started to rip out the page. “Maybe not the whole thing, but you can have this one, big guy.” AAARRGH grinned as Steve handed him the drawing of Blinky, cradling it in a rocky fist.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Steve.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re welcome, AAARRGH.” He shuffled on his feet a little, trying <em> not </em> to imagine all the ways in which Claire could be getting pulverised. “Hey, AAARRGH?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?” He answered, looking up from the drawing of his husband. Steve had an anxious jitteriness to himself, unable to stay still. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, tugging on th strands.</p><p> </p><p>“S-something happened, y’know, when I had that nightmare - like, something really weird, and I think, maybe, that I might need your help with it.” AAARRGH tilted his head in curiosity. “Y’know, I-if you’d be willing to help.” He added on hastily, not wanting to seem rude or demanding.</p><p> </p><p>AAARRGH just hummed thoughtfully, and patted Steve’s golden head gently. “Anytime, you need help, come” He pointed at himself. “Come get me, in Trollmarket. Okay?” He said genuinely, leaning forwards towards the boy with concern in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Steve nodded. “Thanks, AAARRGH.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” A tinny voice shouted, from below. “I got the Gnome!”</p><p> </p><p>Claire dragged herself from the gloom of the hole, groaning and breathing heavily. She was incased in the Daylight armour, a huge sword strapped to her back. Black and blue hair fell over her shoulders, black lines leaking over her cheek from smudged mascara. She stepped into the light backwards, heaving something heavy from the hole.</p><p> </p><p>Steve stared at her in awe.</p><p> </p><p>“By Gorgus! You did it!” Blinky exclaimed, rushing over and almost knocking Steve to the ground. “Well done! I knew you cou-” His face fell.</p><p> </p><p>“Miss Claire, <em> why </em> are you dragging an unconscious gnome?” </p><p> </p><p>Its limp body flopped onto the floor, Claire letting go of its ankles and setting herself down to catch a breath. Snoring, the gnome muttered something in its sleep happily.</p><p> </p><p>“Well I doubt asking it to politely turn itself in would have worked!”</p><p> </p><p>AAARRGH leaned over, poking the gnome and causing it to roll onto its round belly. He hummed in amusement. “Out cold.” He noted.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky sighed. “Yes, so it would seem.”</p><p> </p><p>                                                           ---------</p><p> </p><p>Gnashing and baring its teeth, the little gremlin bashed against the cage, shaking Steve’s cat carrier. (He had been ginger, a tabby, stout and squishy, but unfortunately met an untimely death beneath the wheel of a truck.) The plastic walls rattled each time the bars were pulled and pushed, clamped in its tiny fists.</p><p> </p><p>Steve was cross legged on the bed, leaning against the headboard, and Claire propped up on a pillow next to him. The gnome growled at them, positioned at the opposite end.</p><p> </p><p>Above them, the tree had now spread across the entire ceiling, and half of one wall, the roots completely engulfing the succulent pots that somehow provided it with enough nutrients. Unnaturally, Steve had become unbothered by its presence, ignoring it except for when a few leaves had to be swept from the carpet.</p><p> </p><p>“You sure we have to kill him?” Steve asked quietly, looking down on her miniscule figure. He felt as though she was a doll, and when he looked away for too long she’d suddenly have those unseeing glass eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Claire sighed, and stood up, balancing on the stuffed ground of Steve’s pillow. “Not really. I mean, the guy’s annoyed the hell outta me, but I’m not sure if I’d go so far as to actually…” She looked sideways at the gnome, then beckoned for Steve to bend his head down. Air pushing from his nose felt like a fan overhead. On her tiptoes, she whispered in his ear, ”<em> ...kill him. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Sitting back up again, his face went away from her but she could still see all the constellations of freckles splattered across his face, the ones only noticeable when you got really close. He even had what looked like tiny droplets of green watercolour dotted in a few random places.</p><p> </p><p>Steve coughed, and got up, the mattress rocking as he moved. Caught off-balance, Claire let out a little yelp before flopping onto her backside. Thankfully the bedding was just as cushiony as it looked. “Be <em> careful </em>, Steve!” She yelled at him, though her tinny voice was much quieter. </p><p> </p><p>He looked apologetic, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry, I kinda forgot how light you are - when is this gonna wear off?” Soft carpet brushed across his toes as he stepped to the window, drawing the curtain shut over a navy blue night sky.</p><p> </p><p>Claire huffed, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. “Hopefully, by morning. That’s what Blinky told me, at least.” She poked her tongue out at the gnome, who crossed its arms and turned its back on her, like an impudent child.</p><p> </p><p>Leaning on the edge of his desk, Steve plucked a leaf and then rolled it around in his hands. “So what excuse are you gonna come up with to tell your parents?”</p><p> </p><p><em> Right. </em> Her parents.Amidst the chaos of gnome-hunting, she’d forgotten about them. She groaned, lying down dramatically and flinging an arm over her face. “Oh God, they are never going to forgive me if I sleep over at a boy’s house!” Sitting up and crossing her legs, she straightened her back. After clearing her throat, she began an impression of Ophelia, wagging her finger at an imaginary daughter. “ <em> Claire </em>, You do not want to give away your flower so early!”</p><p> </p><p>Steve laughed at her high pitched voice. “Yeah...I can imagine what she’d say.” He scratched his neck, watching the now still cage with concern. For a moment, he pondered in silence, before his whole face perked up and he reached with a large hand into Claire’s bag. Her textbooks were dropped onto the floor harshly.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” She stood up on the uneven ground, and tried to get his attention. “What are you doing in my bag, Steve?” But he ignored her, until her slim phone was in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>So that their brown eyes were able to meet, he crouched down on the floor next to the bed, plopping the phone onto the duvet. “What if, your Mom thought you were at someone <em> else’s </em> house?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well I would just ask Darci to cover for me, but, I think she may be mad at me...I kinda snapped at her earlier.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at her in confusion, tilting his head. It looked so weird to be staring down at a tiny, tiny human. To think <em> this </em> was how a girl first entered his bedroom. “Just ask Mary then - she’s your friend, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Claire huffed, amused. “<em> Steve. </em> You have one of your girl-friends mad at you, you have <em> all </em>of your girl-friends mad at you. Mary probably already thinks I’m a dick.”</p><p> </p><p>Huge brown eyes pleaded at her. “Can’t I just <em> try </em> to text her? Otherwise Mayor Nuñez will be on my tail - and I do <em> not </em> need that right now.”</p><p> </p><p>Claire stared into the huge brown puppy dog eyes, unblinking. After ten seconds, she threw her hands up in the air.</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh. Fine, you can try. But don’t blame me if she doesn’t want to cover for me.” Claire listened to the automated tapping sound as Steve typed away a message, then the whooshing sound as it sent. They only had to wait ten seconds for a reply, since Mary was practically glued to her phone.</p><p> </p><p>Steve squinted at the bright screen, and then laid the phone on the bed so that Claire could look at it. The glowing rectangle was like a table to her, and she got on her hands and knees to lean over it. Each button was the size of her fist.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Yeah sure, I'll cover for you if your Mom asks if you're over.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>But what's going on with you? Darci said you weren't like yourself today.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Claire didn’t send a reply back.</p><p> </p><p>Steve crossed his arms over his chest, smirking. “See, I-”</p><p> </p><p>Claire interrupted him in a snarling voice. “I swear to <em> God </em> Steve, do <em> not </em> say, ‘I told you so’.” He raised his hands in surrender, and backed away.</p><p> </p><p>Using her tiny hands, Claire scrolled through her contacts to find her Mom. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him trying to angle the cage away without waking it up, so that the bars faced his desk. He then dragged over the chair and sat on it, resting his sketchpad on a crossed leg.</p><p> </p><p>When she typed, it was like playing whack-a-mole, trying to slam her hand down hard enough to make the buttons press.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Hey Mom, I'm staying at Mary's house tonight - going to help her study for her make-up spanish test.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>She pondered before sending the next message.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Love you.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>With a great deal of effort, she managed to switch it off, and laid down so she could stare up at the ceiling, thin twigs edging along it still.</p><p> </p><p>Steve scribbling away on paper was white noise to her ears as she fell asleep soundly, exhaustion keeping her unconscious the entire night long.</p><p> </p><p>---------</p><p> </p><p>Steve poked Claire's tiny chest, hoping that she'd awaken. Instead, her thin hands clamped around the digit, and tried to snuggle with it, a pleasant smile spreading on her face.</p><p> </p><p>"Papí, no...that tickles..."</p><p> </p><p>He huffed, and yanked his finger from her grasp roughly. Slowly, her eyes opened, and in confusion she blinked up at the huge giant.</p><p> </p><p>"S-steve?" Her voice was soft and tired. Yawning, she stretched her long arms and sat up, looking around the room. Soft sunlight flood across the drawings on the wall, turning green leaves a bright gold.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Something wasn't right. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Steve shouldered his schoolbag, debating whether he should splash some water on her. "Claire, c'mon, we gotta figure something out for your spanish test!"</p><p> </p><p>Still a bit out of it, she mumbled, "Don't worry, I'm fluent, Steve..."</p><p> </p><p>"That's not the problem!"</p><p> </p><p>"What?" She tilted her head in confusion, staring up at him.</p><p> </p><p><em> Up </em>, at him.</p><p> </p><p>"WHY AM I STILL SMALL?" She yelled suddenly, fully aware. Her hands were so tiny and frail, her entire being dwarfed on Steve's pillow. "Blinky said it would wear off by morning!"</p><p> </p><p>"Well, obviously, it didn't!"</p><p> </p><p>She pinched her brow, and tried to calm herself by letting out a deep breath.</p><p> </p><p>"We can figure something out, right?" She asked uncertainly.</p><p> </p><p>Steve shrugged, grimacing.</p><p> </p><p>-------</p><p> </p><p>Señor Uhl stared down at his silver watch in dismay, the red hand ticking in time until it reached the twelve. No one came through the door, and he sighed.</p><p> </p><p>"How disappointing, Miss Nuñez," He muttered to himself quietly before speaking louder to the room of teenagers. "It seems, class, that Claire has failed to show up on time for her presentation, and as su-"</p><p> </p><p>A bumbling blond burst through the door, out of breath and panting. In his hands was a red laptop.</p><p> </p><p>"No! No, no, Claire's here!" Steve shouted, skidding into the room.</p><p> </p><p>"M-Mr Palchuk?" Uhl asked in shock, watching as he set up the laptop on his desk, so that the screen faced the class. He tapped some buttons swiftly, setting something up.</p><p> </p><p>"Señorita Claire's here, Sir - Virtually!" He sidestepped away from the screen, displaying Claire's anxious face. When she spoke, it was lagging with the movements of her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>"<em> Lo siento </em>, Señor Uhl, pero I am very ill." She coughed, just for effect. Behind her, was a wooden wall. (Which was Steve’s headboard, although Uhl didn’t have to know that.)</p><p> </p><p>He raised a golden eyebrow in disbelief, and grunted. "Hmm. I see." Folding his hands behind his back, he smiled maliciously at her. "Well, so long as I can hear you, I suppose this arrangement will suffice. Go ahead." He waved her on, and she nodded.</p><p> </p><p>In perfect Spanish, she read out her presentation, her accent immaculate. Everything was going well, and it seemed that her grades wouldn't slip after all. The report came to an end, and she smiled at her teacher through the camera. "And, uh, that's it, folks!" Nervously, she laughed.</p><p> </p><p>Uhl nodded. "That was surprisingly good, Miss Nunez, considering the circumstances. <em> A- </em>, for you." He awarded generously.</p><p> </p><p>Claire breathed out a sigh of relief, and leaned into the pillow she was propped up against. From the corner of her eye, she watched as the door of the cage swung open, creaking.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 'Oh, shit.' </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Without saying anything, she pressed a button on the laptop keyboard to finish the call, dismissing Uhl's face.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes searched the room wildly, trying to spot the whizzing creature. But the room was creepily silent, still and unmoving. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 'Where are you, you little turd?' </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Above her, a branch creaked, pulling downwards from a swinging weight. "Hah!" It screamed, jumping from a trailing wooden stick onto the pillow next to her. Long teeth gnashed together, and she screamed, jumping backwards into the cushiony ground.</p><p> </p><p><em> Fortunately, </em> the Amulet was within her sight.</p><p> </p><p><em> Unfortunately, </em> it was all the way on Steve's desk.</p><p> </p><p>She held out her hands placatingly, trying to smile nicely as it drew closer, a growl budding in its throat. "H-hey, Mr gnome, can't we sort something out?"</p><p> </p><p>Chittering, it seemed to try and get something across to her, but she couldn't understand. Regardless, it hadn't sounded very nice.</p><p> </p><p>Creeping backwards and backwards, she was nearing the edge of the mattress, about to fall on the floor. Over her shoulder, she eyed the drop and gulped.</p><p> </p><p>Waving her hands in front of it to try and deter it, she used her toes to grip the edge."Wait, I'm sure we can sort something out!" Claire pleaded with its angry, scrunched up face, tensing as it stopped and looked at her with suspicion. Black, beady eyes narrowed, and wrinkles appeared on the nose as it huffed. Then, it pointed down at the cage on the floor and garbled out a string of nonsense aggressively, trying to get a message across.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, yeah...I'm really sorry about that - but in fairness, you did steal my Amulet!" She told it, watching as it seemed to calm slightly, shoulders sloping downwards. "Maybe we could make a sort of deal. Cause, I'm pretty sure you do not want to go back to Bagdwella's, do you?"</p><p> </p><p>It snarled at the mention of the dramatic troll's name.</p><p> </p><p>"Exactly!" She said as if she understood anything that it had said. "So why don't I see if I can find you somewhere else to live, like a-a, uh, relocation?"</p><p> </p><p>It grumbled to itself, thinking, before pointing a hand directly up.</p><p> </p><p>"You, you want to relocate...up?" She asked hesitantly, pointing upwards also.</p><p> </p><p>It shook its head, annoyed, and pointed aggressively up again whilst chittering nonsense. She followed where his finger led, realisation dawning.</p><p> </p><p>She winced, but sent a thumbs up to the now happy gnome. "<em> Ohhhh </em>, Steve is not gonna like this..."</p><p> </p><p>---------</p><p> </p><p>Steve rammed his bedroom door open, scanning the room for either Claire’s corpse or the gnome’s.</p><p> </p><p>“Claire?” He shouted in a panicked voice, out of breath from running back home. As soon as her call had ended, he’d known she hadn’t hung up because of <em> tech </em> issues.</p><p> </p><p>From behind his bed, a normal-height Claire Maria Nuñez stood up, brushing her hands and smiling. She chuckled. “Don’t worry, Steve - I’m here!”</p><p> </p><p>Her hair was a mess of tangles, half held up by a grey scrunchie. Rolled up to her elbows, her blue jacket revealed a series of scrapes down her forearms, as well as the bruise from their alley fight. Smiling, her thin lips turned up only slightly, as if she was too tired to fully control her face.</p><p> </p><p>Without thinking, he dropped his bag onto the floor and leapt over the mattress, squishing her in a bone-crushing hug. “Uh...Steve?” She asked, wondering if he’d been possessed. He gripped her waist tightly, pushing his face into her neck so that she could feel his breath on her collarbone. “You okay...bro?” She patted his back awkwardly. Steve wasn’t exactly one for physical attention.</p><p> </p><p>All of a sudden, his eyes widened, and he realised what he was doing.</p><p> </p><p>“Nuñez, you’re back to normal!” He stepped back roughly, blushing a pinkish-green. He actually looked a bit ill. “I-I thought you were dead!”</p><p> </p><p>She chuckled. “Yeah. I thought I’d be dead too.”</p><p> </p><p>Solemnly, he looked her in the eyes. “So the gnome, did you, uh…” He ran a finger across his neck in a well-known gesture.<em> “You know.” </em>He whispered, suspiciously looking around the floor for a pint-sized fiend.</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head, and sat down at the edge of the bed. With a hand she patted the space next to her, where he dropped himself so that he was facing the window. “I didn’t kill him, but we came to a sort of...<em> agreement </em>.” She gesticulated with her hands as she talked, eyes pointedly looking downwards as if she was about to bring bad news.</p><p> </p><p>Steve could tell by her voice that the <em> ‘agreement’ </em> was not going to be a good thing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Could you sell your soul to a gnome? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“W-what did you agree to, Nuñez?” She grimaced, and pointed up to the ceiling, where a thick branch was bisecting the white plaster, growing around and engulfing a portion of Steve’s fairy lights.</p><p> </p><p>Although the branch wasn’t what unsettled him the most in what he saw.</p><p> </p><p>Hanging from the branch was a hammock of roughly knotted material, filled out by a sleeping gnome that rocked it side to side like a baby.</p><p> </p><p>His head instantly whipped around and bored into her eyes like lasers. Whispering, Steve hissed at her. “I’m <em> sorry </em> - is the agreement you made that we’d be freaking <em> roommates </em>?” One of his thumbs jerkily pointed at the offending creature as it gave out a little snore of contentment.</p><p> </p><p>“Well it was about to kill me, so yeah!” She whispered back, not wanting to wake it up.</p><p> </p><p>“Great, I have a <em> gnome </em> as my roommate.” He buried his face in his hands, and groaned.</p><p> </p><p>Claire let out a tittering laugh, and patted him on the back. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you can bond over something…”</p><p> </p><p>                                                               -----------</p><p> </p><p>The Horngazel scratched over the surface of concrete, leaving a trail of orange-yellow chalk. Standing on his tip-toes, Steve drew the arch of a doorway, but hesitated to press his hand to the surface. His fingers ghosted on the grey surface.</p><p> </p><p>“Steve?” Claire asked tentatively, coming up behind him. She was wearing joggers and a purple hoodie, ready to do some training in the Forge. At Steve’s request, she had showered earlier, so her hair was still wet and chilled in the night time breeze.</p><p> </p><p>He pressed his hand against the wall, and let themselves intoTrollmarket, watching with awe how the wall just swirled away to create an entrance. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to it. Like usual, he felt a tug in his stomach, an awareness to the trolls’ Hearthstone. It didn’t feel <em> wrong </em> to him exactly, but it didn’t feel <em> right </em>, either.</p><p> </p><p>The two of them descended down the blue crystals, which flickered on like fluorescent bulbs.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” Steve started off, clearing his throat. The bustle of the Market was making its way to there ears. “How was rehearsal with <em> Jimmy </em> earlier?” Claire nudged him playfully, and he chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Jimmy </em> , really?” She shook her head. “It was fine, thank you for asking. And <em> Jim, </em> is a pretty good actor.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve snorted, smirking. “Please, he didn’t join that play for <em> acting </em> , Claire, he joined that play so he could spend time with <em> you </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>They left the blue steps, and walked through the busy stalls, ignoring a few rude stares sent their way. They had to raise their voices in order to be heard. “Whatever, Steve. And besides, maybe you should consider joining the play - then you’d be able to get to know Eli better!” She grinned as if this was a great idea.</p><p> </p><p>“W-what? Claire - why would I do <em> that? </em>” He asked, fairly shocked. Him? Onstage? Mentally, he scoffed at the idea. The mention of Eli, however, made him blush, though he didn’t fully know why.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you apologized to him, didn’t you? I’m just saying, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him a bit.” Claire pointed out, weighing out the options with her hands as the side stepped a rather large troll with a lumbering cart.</p><p> </p><p>“Pretty sure talking to him is the last thing he wants me to do.” He noted sadly, dejectedly staring down at the cobbled floor. What Eli needed was space - especially from assholes like him.</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, Claire decided not to push it further, and let her mind retreat into daydreams of her rehearsal with Jim earlier.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “God, I think Ms Janeth wants me to wear tights.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Claire giggled at his complaint, swinging her legs over the edge of the stage. Her arms brushed up next to Jim’s. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Tights, Claire! Tights!” He repeated, though he too was smiling. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She blushed, and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry - at least you won’t be wearing a halloween costume as a dress.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “C’mon, I bet you could make it work!” Jim told her, going red after he realised what he’d just said out loud. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Yo Claire, you with me?” Steve waved a hand in front of her lovesick face, trying to grab her attention. They’d arrived at the entrance to the forge, and could see Blinky talking with AAARRGH animatedly.</p><p> </p><p>“Huh? Oh yeah, sure, just thinking.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thinking?” He asked with suspicion, and she looked away awkwardly.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you know, just-just thinking.” Briskly, she walked on ahead, and entered the huge arena, footsteps echoing off the ground.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky turned around, and opened his arms in welcome.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah! Miss Claire, back to your own size, I see!”</p><p> </p><p>She finger gunned at him.</p><p> </p><p>The blue troll turned towards Steve. “And Steven!” At this point, Steve had given up on correcting Blinky’s use of his name. “I must thank you for the beautiful drawing you gifted AAARRGH - you really captured my essence. I shall have to lend you one of my books about trollish illustrations, sometime.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve looked at AAARRGH, who was beaming at him. “Yeah, that would be nice.” From what he’d noticed, Trollish art was very different, stylised when compared to the often realistic art of humans.</p><p> </p><p>He rubbed all four hands together, and grinned in excitement. “Well, not a moment to waste - we must proceed with your training, Miss Claire!” AAARRGH nodded in agreement behind him, balancing on his feet and fists.</p><p> </p><p>She raised a hand, as if asking a question in class. “Actually, Blink, there was something we wanted to talk to you about, cause something <em> super </em> weird started happening in Steve’s bedroom-”</p><p> </p><p>Blinky rigidly straightened up, and even AAARRGH looked away bashfully. “Miss Claire, I do not wish to hear any more than I must about the affairs of Steve’s bedroom!”</p><p> </p><p>“Not like that!” Steve yelped, face going a bright blush, tinged with green.</p><p> </p><p>AAARRGH hummed thoughtfully, gesturing towards Steve’s greenish face with concern. “Look ill, Blinky.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve waved him off. “What Claire meant to say, is that a few nights ago, a tree <em> literally </em>just started growing in my room.”</p><p> </p><p>“A tree?” Blinky asked, confused. As far as he was concerned, humans didn’t keep too much plantation within the space they resided.</p><p> </p><p>Claire nodded, backing Steve up. “Yeah - the thing sprouted up out of nowhere, and its already grown over his entire room!” She gestured with her hands, to show the extent of its climb over the walls,</p><p> </p><p>Blinky’s eyes widened, and he exchanged a worried glance with his husband. “The entire room? Within the span of a few days?”</p><p> </p><p>Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I was just having this nightmare, and when I woke up, there was like a thin little sapling growing from my succulent pot - and <em> apparently, </em> it’s just gonna keep on growing!”</p><p> </p><p>Claire rubbed his arm in comfort. “I’m thinking maybe Steve touched something, something magical, that could have caused this.”</p><p> </p><p>Blinky rubbed his chin, and took a few moments of silence to think. When he spoke, he sounded quite serious, and rested his eyes curiously on Steve in a way that made him think he’d sprouted a set of horns, or turned into a giant bug.</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps it would be best if you trained with AAARRGH today, Miss Claire.” He smiled at Steve warmly, gesturing for him to follow as he walked out of the Forge. “Master Steven, I think we should have a little <em>chat</em> about some things.” His yellow eyes, quite seriously, bored into him as if trying to read something from his mind.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, so this chapter was really fun to write - I diverged from the show in that Claire got a good score on her spanish test (She speaks it with her family, so it wouldn't make sense for her to get a low score like Jimbo) And also Steve wouldn't have a dollhouse, so Champsky is living in the tree - which won't be in Steve's room forever, don't worry.</p><p>Please leave kudos or comment!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Yer A Wizard, Steve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Finally, we find out what's up with that damned tree, Chompsky settles into his home, and Nomura plots murder.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>U have no idea how long I've been waiting to use that as a chapter title</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve sat at a desk in Blinky’s library, gazing up at the numerous rows of books, all old and beautifully worn. Yellow pages stuck up, curling and bending from centuries of being flicked through. He wasn’t much of a bookworm, but he could appreciate the decades of effort put into the collection. The room was obviously well-loved, the floor swept so that it shone, golden light pouring onto it like sunlight from glowing gems slotted into the walls. Chests made of a dark wood and braced with deep grey metal were randomly sat against the walls, some propped open by the overwhelming amount of <em> stuff </em> shoved inside them.</p><p> </p><p>On the table he situated himself at, a clay teapot and two mugs were placed in front of him, glazed a pale green with wave patterns. A heavenly plant smell wafted over to Steve in waves of calm.</p><p> </p><p>The blue troll had yet to join Steve, perusing his own collection with interest. Each time he switched to another shelf, his feet made a clopping sound on the floor. Blinky hummed and muttered under his breath, searching for a title amongst the rows of seemingly endless spines with his eyes squinted. Eventually, he smiled and chuckled to himself, withdrawing a green tome that was oblong and thin. It was placed face down on the table when he sat down, the stool rocking beneath his weight.</p><p> </p><p>Facing Steve, he smiled gently. “Tea, Steven?” With a four-fingered hand he lifted the hot pot, and tipped red liquid into his own mug, then Steve’s. The blond watched as it swirled around in the lime clay, the mug warm and comforting in his palms like the hot water bottle his Dad made him when he was ill.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky cleared his throat, and rested his hands on the table, the bottom pair on his lap. “Now, I thought it best to do this in private, Steven, since I did not know how much of this you’d like Miss Claire to hear - of course if you wish to share all this with her later, that would be completely fine.” He sounded as if he was about to tell Steve he had a deathly disease.</p><p> </p><p>Steve laughed nervously. “W-why? What are you going to tell me?” He looked into Blinky’s kind eyes, looking for a clue.</p><p> </p><p>Ironically, Blinky’s unblinking eyes only bored into him harder, as if trying to find the last piece in a puzzle of Steve’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Wait? </em> Am I cursed?” He asked in a panicked voice, eyebrows rising.</p><p> </p><p>Binky started spluttering, waving a hand to deter him. “Steven-”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh God, I’m cursed, aren’t I?”</p><p> </p><p>Blinky sighed. “Steve-”</p><p> </p><p>“Am I gonna die?” He whispered in a pained voice, running his hands through his hair, staring off into the distance.</p><p> </p><p>“No!” Blinky exclaimed, searching to put the boy at ease, though he looked as if he thought Blinky was mad at him. Settling himself down, he took a sip from his own mug. “Why don’t you have a spot of tea, hmm? It’ll calm your nerves.”</p><p> </p><p>Jittery, Steve nodded, and took a long sip, relishing in the sweet taste on his tongue. He couldn’t tell what kind of plant or fruit it was, but it tasted like a berry, sugary and warm.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, I’m sorry,” He waved the troll on. “I won’t interrupt.”</p><p> </p><p>Blinky inclined his head. “Thank you, Steven.” With a click, he unclasped the latch on the book, flicking idly to a yellow page, crammed with writing in a messy black scrawl. “What do you know of Magic?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ummm,” Steve drummed his fingers on the desk. “Not much, other than it’s what powers you guys, right? That’s what AAARRGH told me.”</p><p> </p><p>Blinky smiled at the mention of his partner. “Yes, that is one form of Magic - Geo magic, to be precise, though there are many other kinds. Including, I should add, <em> green </em> magic.” He grinned, as if the word <em> green </em> meant anything to Steve. All it reminded him of was the tree, and then the gnome, and then all the other bad things going on in his life, and oddly, that one weird pizza he had to make that was covered in pickles.</p><p> </p><p>“Y-you mean like plants and stuff? So you do think the tree’s magic?” Steve really hoped part of the tree’s magic <em> wasn’t </em> that it would kill the nearest human in their sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky laughed, loud and bubbly, as if Steve had told a hysterical joke instead of a legitimate question. “Oh, you’re quite the comedian, aren’t you? <em> Of course </em> it’s Magic - trees like that don’t pop up out of nowhere!” He snorted, and finished off his tea in one gulp, then wiped his stony mouth. “You see, for something like that to grow without being planted, and then to get bigger over the course of such a short amount of time, it must have a source of Magic that it feeds from, something that powers it.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve nodded, trying to make sense of it all - however he felt just as clueless as he did in all his maths lessons with Ms Janeth.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ‘C’mon, Palchuk, if you can deal with trolls, you can deal with magic trees.’ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“These sources of power are most often a born trait amongst wizards, although there are a few mythical objects that can do such things - which we won’t go into right now.” He mentally berated himself for almost going off on a tangent about mythical objects.</p><p> </p><p>Steve’s face went white as a sheet, imagining some old guy with a long beard that grew homicidal trees to punish bullying youths.(Steve has had some very stressful few days)  “<em> Wait </em> - you’re saying there’s a freaking wizard making a tree grow in my room? Why?”</p><p> </p><p>Exasperated, Blinky shook his head, and decided on taking the <em> slower </em> route to explain things.“Well, you mentioned having a nightmare, didn’t you?” Steve nodded hastily, not liking where this was going. Did this wizard want to harm him? Kill him, even?</p><p> </p><p>Goosebumps prickled along his arms, and he gulped.</p><p> </p><p>“Sometimes, if a wizard is put under a large amount of stress, then their magic will manifest itself in a way to protect them. The tree is not an <em> invader </em> in your room, Steven. It is a <em> protector </em> - much like Miss Claire is to us trolls.” Blinky spoke slowly, trying to edge Steve along to figure it out.</p><p> </p><p>“I-I don’t get it.” He admitted, trailing a finger on the edge of his mug, feeling the condensation. Blinky splayed a hand over the page of the book.</p><p> </p><p>“Before you went home, and had that nightmare, you felt the power of the Heartstone, didn’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>Steve nodded uncertainly, biting his lip.</p><p> </p><p>“The Heartstone acted as a...<em> switch </em> if you will, it allows the electricity to flow, but you are the conductor that chooses what it powers - Since in <em> this </em> scenario electricity is magic.” He elaborated for the boy, who slowly put the puzzle pieces together in his head with a mystified expression on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean,<em> ‘You are the conductor’? </em> I haven’t <em> powered </em> anything!” Steve questioned, gesturing wildly with his hands.</p><p> </p><p>“What I am trying to say, Steven, is that our Heartstone awakened a source of power within you, which otherwise would have stayed dormant. And when you were within the thralls of your nightmare, you subconsciously called out for protection.” With his hands, he mimed the actions, crushing his fist together for  <em> ‘thrall’. </em> “ <em> However </em>,” He raised up a finger in warning. “since it was your first time actively calling on the Magic, your pull was weak, so only a sapling managed to grow before you awoke, and now it is simply trying to do what you subconsciously asked it to do - protect you.” His fingers linked together, making a dome on the table.</p><p> </p><p>Steve stared, dumbstruck at him. He’d used Magic?</p><p>Slowly, he pointed a finger at his own chest.</p><p> </p><p>“You mean...I’m a <em> wizard </em>?” He scoffed. “You got that wrong Blinky - I’m as normal as they get.” Leaning backwards, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his orange hoodie, trying to look as normal and human as he could. However the pink flesh of his face was still somewhat tinged with green, like freckles of forest paint.</p><p> </p><p>The blue troll hummed and nodded, leaning down and squinting at the page as if searching for something. “I did suspect that you may hold such a reservation. But if it’s proof you want…” Trailing off, he ran a finger down the page, and rested on a line of black scribbles. His face lit up with excitement. “Yes, yes, this shall do. I’ll be back within the minute!” He trod out of the room, and clanged around in a storage cupboard with his back to Steve. Metal contraptions and wooden crates were dropped haphazardly on the floor, amassing a pile of clutter at his feet.</p><p> </p><p> Steve drew himself closer to try and get a glance at the page without Blinky noticing, seeing a messy sketch of a dead plant, all weak and curled in on itself. He felt a pang of pity for the thing, even if it <em> was </em> just a drawing.</p><p> </p><p>Stomping his heavy feet along the stones, Blinky came back over, and placed a thin, dried-up spring of lavender on the table, the sweet scent enticing Steve. It was still lilac and green, but the colours faded, like they’d been sucked out along with its life. Instead of bendy, the stalk looked snappable and stiff, like a twig. Each flower head was as hard and loose as a grain of uncooked rice.</p><p> </p><p>Steve cautiously wondered what Blinky was planning with such a curious and giddy look on his face. One of his hands drummed four fingers across the table in swift clacks.“What’s <em> that </em> gonna do?” He poked it with a jab, though it did nothing.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll just have to trust me here, Steven. Close your eyes, now.” Blinky picked up the sprig, and moved it closer to the teen, so that the lilac heads pointed at him. Steve watched him with suspicion.</p><p> </p><p>Taking in a deep breath, Steve did what he was told, feeling a bit foolish. “<em> Ooookay, </em> well now what?” He felt a cool stone take his left hand in his own, and pulled it forwards so that it hovered in the air. He had a feeling his hand was now a few inches above the lavender.</p><p> </p><p>In a soft and surprisingly calm voice, Blinky gave him further instructions. “Focus, Steven, focus on what you felt when you first saw the Heartstone.” </p><p> </p><p>Steve cracked one of his eyes open, seeing Blinky’s yellow eyes just a foot away from his own.. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>Blinky rolled his eyes. “Just trust me, youngling.”</p><p> </p><p>Huffing, Steve closed his eyes, but went along with it. Tingling, the palm of his hand felt warm and...weird. Like backwards pins and needles.</p><p> </p><p>A warm, deep voice spoke out to him quietly. “Take a deep breath now,” Blinky tried to make his voice undistracting as he could, whilst still giving Steve instructions. The boy did look relaxed, his shoulders slumped and eyelids resting, but inside his heartbeat was going off like a rock band drum solo.</p><p> </p><p>“And try to think about the lavender growing again, think only of what colour the petals would be were it still alive, or how moist the stalk is,” Like how he talked when reading from a <em> Brief Recapulation </em>, his voice had more emotion and tone in it.</p><p> </p><p>Steve felt like he was doing a crappy meditation, but he thought about it. Maybe the lavender would be a nice, deep purple, the stalk rough with ridges but still pliable and bendable. It probably had a stronger smell when it was alive, too. He could imagine it wafting through his nose like a perfume, clinging to his skin.</p><p> </p><p>He heard Blinky let out a gasp, and started to open his eyes, slowly letting in the golden light of the library. “What’s wrong, Blink? D-did something happen?” He asked, watching the blue troll’s awed face, all six eyes looking down at the dead sprig, which-</p><p> </p><p> -which wasn’t dead anymore.</p><p> </p><p>The smell he’d imagined had been real, the product of the now bountiful and bloated flowerheads. Purple petals curled and shimmered with their greasy sheen, folding away from the soft and pliable green stalk.</p><p> </p><p>Blinky laughed, wildly happy, and stood up. “Steven!” He shouted joyously.</p><p> </p><p>“Y-yes?” He answered back, still staring dumbstruck at what he’d done. With <em> Magic </em>, apparently.</p><p> </p><p>“My boy, this is splendid! I never imagined you would do it so fast!” He plucked up the thin sprig between two stony fingers and inspected it, bringing it closer to his face. His three left eyes closed so that he could see better out of the right, lips pulled to the corners in concentration. “Hmmm, yes, yes, it does seem to indeed be a functioning flower, let me fetch you something to put it in.” Before he walked out of the room, he clapped Steve on the shoulder, roughly shaking him. </p><p>“Perhaps, you should also make use of this.” He added on, laughing nervously. From one of his many pockets around his belt he took out a silver hand-held mirror, the handle made of twisting metal thorns, and placed it face-up on the table in front of the..<em> .wizard </em>.</p><p> </p><p>In a few seconds, Steve was alone with only his thoughts and the many books surrounding him. His mouth hung open slightly, eyes staring into the wood of the table with a distant expression.</p><p> </p><p>A <em> wizard? </em> Like Harry Potter?</p><p> </p><p>He supposed it wasn’t exactly a bad thing, but he still had trouble wrapping his mind around it all. It was one thing to have a giant tree grow in your room - a complete freaking <em> other </em> thing to make a giant tree grow with the power of your mind.</p><p> </p><p>His hands were a bit shaky, but otherwise normal, if not a little pale. With his left, he reached for the mirror, feeling the cool metal in his palm. Anxiously, he worried what made Blinky give him the mirror - Did something happen to his face?</p><p> </p><p>With a flick, he brought the mirror parallel to his face, and gawked flabbergasted at the square reflection.</p><p> </p><p>His hair, was <em> green. </em></p><p> </p><p>A light, forest green that blended in with golden blond, most concentrated at his roots. It didn’t look like the tangy green of punk kids that dyed their hair behind their parents backs, but was more muted and deep, seeming as if it was his natural colour.</p><p> </p><p>Freckles had always been a familiar sight, though now they gave off vibes of an uncanny valley, the light brown splatters turned into a watery green, like he’d been painting and splashed some on his face.</p><p> </p><p>Just as Blinky came back in to the room with a jar of water to hold the lavender, he was shocked by a metal clang, the mirror falling from Steve’s grip and onto the floor. Shards of reflections scattered like hail, raining onto the cobblestone.</p><p> </p><p>                                                                  ---------</p><p>“So, uh, as it turns out, the hair thing was just temporary - only happens when magic is used, or something.” Embarrassed, Steve looked down at the pavement, watching his sneakers kick along the floor. In his hand, he held Blinky’s green book loosely, feeling the energy that seemed to come off it in waves. </p><p> </p><p>His hair was back to blonde, now, though some of his freckles still had a greenish-tinge. Claire couldn’t exactly tell because of the dull streetlamps, but she didn’t think they were too noticeable. Chuckling, she stood on her tip-toes and ruffled his hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” He yelped, fixing her mess vanely.</p><p> </p><p>“What? I’d love to have hair that does that - imagine being at a PapaSkull concert with magically changing hair!” She shook and bopped her head, as if dancing to an imaginary beat, a messy black bun swishing around whilst stray hairs <em> thwipped </em>her in the face.</p><p> </p><p>Sweaty from her training with AAARRGH, her hoodie seemed to cling to her skin, but it protected her from the chilly air like a blanket.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I guess it’s pretty cool...But what if it happens in school? O-or what if my Dad finds out, or-” Claire smushed a finger to his lips, forcing him to be quiet. Shocked, he froze in place.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s gonna be fine, Steve. You can just tell them that you dyed your hair for a dare, couldn’t you?” She raised her eyebrow, as if to say, <em> ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ </em> Steve didn’t tell her that it made her look so much more like her mother.</p><p> </p><p>He nodded his head, and took in a deep breath to calm himself. “Yeah, you’re right. S’all gonna be fine.” Claire’s eyes drifted to the book in his hand, small and long, thin multicoloured pages bound together by hand. He gripped it so hard that the cover bent in his palm.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that the book Blink gave you?” Claire asked, pointing at it and hoping that Steve would stop clenching the beautiful book. He looked down and blinked at it, as if he’d forgotten it was even there. Leaning against a rough, wooden fence of someone’s garden, he passed it to her, and shoved his hands into the front pocket off his hoodie. Dragon breath came out his mouth in a puff of steam.</p><p> </p><p>In her tiny hands, the book was surprisingly light, about half a foot tall and only a few inches wide, tightly kept shut by a silvery latch attached to light green leather. Probably with some form of exposure, the silhouette of a tree was drawn in a deep, dark green that stained the material. Turning it so it was on its side, she ran a finger along the ridges of red, yellow, blue, and orange pages, that were all mixed with each other to create a rainbow of sorts.</p><p> </p><p>“He said it was written by another green wizard - but the guy’s dead now.” Steve pointed out, flipping the book onto its back and gesturing to a small name written in red. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Morder Arthurson </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kicking off the wall with one foot, Steve continued walking on the sidewalk with her, holding out a hand to take the book back. “Blinky said there should be some simple spells for me to try out, but I’m not really sure if I want to.”</p><p> </p><p>Claire resonated with him, weighing out the options invisibly with her hands. “Well, I’d try to find something to get rid of the tree - I don’t know how long you can keep that a secret from your dad.” She heaved her backpack on her shoulders, visibly tired from the weight. “Blinky set me a load of homework too, cause <em> apparently, </em> trolls don’t know how to make normal-sized books!”</p><p> </p><p>Steve laughed at her outburst, dimples appearing, and followed Claire round the corner to her street. Walking backwards, she turned around so she could face him. “You know, a lady can walk home by herself, <em> Steven. </em>” Waggling her eyebrows, she spun around and jogged, disappearing in the shadows of the street.</p><p> </p><p>“I-I know-” Steve spluttered, green blush rising to his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>Without looking back at him, she shouted, “Go home, get some sleep Mr Wizard!”, and listened for his response. When she looked back over her shoulder, she just about caught his orange hoodie disappear behind a white wall.</p><p> </p><p>Without him there, the street seemed to lengthen in the dark, completely silent except for the mewling of a cat and far away cars. Steve had become a friend, somehow - even though the her from a few weeks ago would’ve thought such a thing impossible.</p><p> </p><p>Behind the shut curtains of her house, a tall and slim silhouette balanced a baby, rocking him side to side. To check the time, she took out her phone, blinking away the spots caused by the bright screen.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>11:57</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Almost an hour past her curfew for school nights.</p><p> </p><p>Well, she had to go in sooner or later, and just standing around like a creep in her own garden wasn’t going to help her at all. Each step towards the front door was filled with tension, knuckles aching as she rapped on the door.</p><p> </p><p>Within a second, it swung open, Ophelia staring at her with distaste and a red face. She ushered her in, slamming the door to keep out the cold.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Claire! </em> Where have you been?” Her Mom demanded in a hushed tone, still cradling Enrique. Her baby brother somehow seemed to always be asleep when Ophelia was maddest.</p><p> </p><p>Currently, the older woman’s face was pinched in an angry frown, lips downturned and eyebrows furrowed. She was still in her business suit, hair smartly tucked to the side.</p><p> </p><p>“Mom, I’m fine, okay?” She gestured to her unharmed self, sidestepping around the angry politician and heading up the stairs. Just as her hand started trailing along the banister, Ophelia huffed and placed a hand on her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Shaking the grip off, Claire turned around, eyes focusing on how Enriques little nostrils puffed whenever he breathed. If she wasn’t holding a baby, Claire was sure her Mother would have her hands on her hips. “<em> Claire. </em> You had me worried, mija, I had no idea what happened to you! You weren’t replying to my texts!”</p><p> </p><p>“Well obviously, I had no signal - and besides, I was just hanging out with a friend, and lost track of time!”</p><p> </p><p>Dark eyes narrowed on the teenager. “Which friend?”</p><p> </p><p>“Steve. I’m helping him with maths, he’s helping me with the art stuff for the play, alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“Steve? The bully at school?” She questioned in an exasperated voice, eyes wide. “Claire, why would you stay with him so late?”</p><p> </p><p>She scratched the back of her neck. Arguably speaking, yes, Steve <em> was </em> a bully. Although she hoped he wouldn’t go back to doing that again, wouldn’t feel the need to do those sorts of things. “He-he’s better now. Look, Mom, I’m really tired, can’t I just go to bed?” She wiped a hand over her eyes, which were already drooping shut, and yawned.</p><p> </p><p>Ophelia sighed, but resigned not to push any further. “Fine. But we will be talking about this tomorrow, okay?” Without asking, she lifted up Enrique and gave him to Claire, pressing him against her chest. Instinctively, he curled his face into her bony shoulder. “Now take your brother to bed - I have work to do.” Her high heels clipped along the floor regally, her back disappearing into the kitchen. And leaving the two siblings alone.</p><p> </p><p>What Claire wanted to do was berate her Mom for not putting Enrique to bed earlier, but since she’d already pushed her luck, she thought maybe it could wait. The infant was warm and soft, cradled in her arms like a pillow. Drooling, Enrique breathed softly, cooing at something in his dreams. Claire wished they could switch places, that she could be the one being looked after, being swaddled in warm blankets and hugged. Then she felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about stealing such comfort from Enrique.</p><p> </p><p>She kissed his forehead, and walked up the carpeted stairs to the corridor, wooden floorboards creaking softly below her. Evidently, her Papí was not home yet, since all the lights were out. The immaculate urban setting seemed creepy and unnatural without the golden light, but she ignored her discomfort, pushing open the door to Enrique’s room gently with her foot.</p><p> </p><p>Inside, his mobile of toy planets hung precariously above the cot, plastic balls glinting menacingly. Claire couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something about dark nurseries always made her get the creeps.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Oh-okay, c’mon Enrique, let’s getcha down…” She slowly lowered him into the cradle, plucking him from where he had latched onto her hoodie. As his head hit the pillow, he blearily opened his eyes, and gave her a weak little smile before slipping back into sweet dreams.</p><p> </p><p>Claire swept away a lock of blond hair from his forehead, feeling his warm and pink skin, a few shades lighter than her own but still with the same warm, pink undertones she shared with her Mom. Enrique actually looked quite a lot like her Mom, coincidentally.</p><p> </p><p>(Did it make her a horrible person to be glad that Enrique’s biological parents had not wanted him? That she was so happy the day she first met him, overjoyed that someone had let him become a cog in their family machine?)</p><p> </p><p>“Buenos noches, Enrique.” </p><p> </p><p>(In the end, she didn’t really care if it made her bad or not. Enrique was her brother, no matter what.)</p><p> </p><p>----------</p><p> </p><p><em> “Gedrysne aesc” </em> Steve whispered, holding the book of spells in one hand, the other with its palm pressed to the bottom of the trunk, near the cracked succulent pots. Steve was beginning to think maybe the tree <em> ate </em> his succulents for nutrients.</p><p> </p><p>Like the previous few times he tried, the tree stayed stubbornly in place, unreactive to his supposed magic. He was beginning to doubt he was really a wizard - maybe the tree growing <em> had </em> been a fluke of nature.</p><p> </p><p><em> Scientific </em> nature, of course - not the <em> ‘green’ </em> stuff Blinky was going on about.</p><p> </p><p>Grumbling, he decided to try one more time, louder but not so that his Dad would hear and be awoken. <em> “Gedrysne aesc!” </em>A little tug was felt beneath his skin, but nothing happened.</p><p> </p><p>The gnome, who was in a hammock on a nearby branch, started chittering in annoyance, waving an irritated fist at Steve.</p><p> </p><p>Steve waved his roommate off. “Yeah, I know! But I gotta get rid of this tree!”</p><p> </p><p>The gnome still did not seem happy, and climbed from its hammock to that it could draw in more breath to speak louder. Steve groaned, and smushed his face against the desk in dismay. “Whatever deal Claire made with you, we can come to an arrangement - how about you can have this drawer in my closet? It’s pretty much like an apartment for you.” He gestured to the ajar draw inside the closet next to his desk, empty except for a few socks.</p><p> </p><p> Steve extended his hand to the branch, indicating for someone to mount. The gnome tentatively stepped into Steve’s hand, wobbling about as he moved it. Like a crane, he lowered the vermin into the empty draw and let him take a little sniff around. Suspiciously, it crept into each corner, inspecting it for damage, or perhaps a trap. After a good minute of investigation of the new habitat, it shouted gibberish at Steve in a somewhat polite voice, and curled up in one of the socks like a rat, nuzzling the stinky cloth.</p><p> </p><p>Steve sat down on his bed, cross-legged and right in the centre, closing his eyes. He tried to remember all those times teachers had attempted to make a class do meditation, only for no one to listen.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ‘In, and out,’ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He breathed deeply through his nose, out of time with the snores of the gnome.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ‘In, and out,’ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>All around him, there was this field, or more aptly, a spiderweb, that couldn’t be seen. He was at the centre of it, his webbing connected to the Greenery around him, and each time something changed, it sent a vibration to him. Steve thought maybe he’d always felt it there, but just never noticed until Blinky had pointed out that he might be...<em> different. </em></p><p> </p><p>The tree felt warm on his web, like a blanket that cocooned around him. He remembered what Blinky had told him about it earlier.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ‘ -it is simply trying to do what you subconsciously asked it to do - protect you.’ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps that was why it had climbed over the walls and ceiling in such a peculiar manner, more like vines than branches. It was making an attempt to create a dome around him, though no matter what it did it could never protect him from another nightmare. Those sorts of monsters only attacked from within, like a cou.</p><p> </p><p><em> ‘Thanks for trying,’ </em>Steve thought, aiming it towards the tree as if it could grow ears and listen.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Ged-gedrysne aesc” </em>He spoke softly, just under his breath, imagining that he was able to have a face-to-face conversation with the tree. Maybe they were having coffee together.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t really sure.</p><p> </p><p>But as he said the words, he could feel a thrumming power weave its way through his body, stretching over the muscles under his skin and powering through his veins. It felt familiar, a string of vines that climbed on his skeleton.</p><p> </p><p>When he opened his eyes, blearily blinking once, twice, three times, the tree was gone. His walls, scratched and scraped by its branches were now weirdly bare.</p><p> </p><p>Relieved, though he was, Steve couldn’t stop the pang of loneliness he still felt.</p><p> </p><p>---------</p><p> </p><p>“Heh.” Nomura grinned savagely, sheathing her orange blades behind her back and crossing her arms over her chest. “You have improved your left grip since the last time we sparred.” Black claws drummed against polished pink, and she sat down on her goatish legs, perched on the edge of a wooden crate. In the doorway to the room behind them, Killahead bridge could be spied, peeking out from behind a dull curtain.</p><p> </p><p>Currently, Jim had been beat mercilessly in one of the storage rooms, empty since the pottery exhibition was on show. (In all honesty, he’d rather be stabbed by Nomura than listen to her go on about ninth-century Japanese pottery.)</p><p> </p><p>Dark and dimly lit, the corners were framed with spiderwebs, cracks splintering across the unpainted walls. No matter how many times it was cleaned, the floor always had a layer of dust on it. But it was large, spacious, and unforgiving - the perfect place for two changelings to train. Or, a changeling and a half changeling, at least.</p><p> </p><p>“Since we last <em> sparred? </em> ” Jim panted, out of breath. He slid with his back down the wall, bringing his blue knees up to his chest. “Is that what you call trying to <em> kill </em>me nowadays?”</p><p> </p><p>Cackling, Nomura threw back her head, her deep noises echoing off the walls. “I am not trying to kill you, Little Gynt,” She pushed herself off her haunches and strode over to him, ruffling his overgrown hair. She’d need to cut it sometime - God forbid Strickler gives the poor kid a quiff or something.</p><p> </p><p>Jim smiled at her, seeing the proud glint in her eyes that quickly turned cold, like she was putting up a wall. “If I <em> was, </em> you’d be dead already.” Beneath her hand, she felt him tense up, ears flicking downwards unconsciously. With a swift swipe, she flicked one of the pointed tips, a little nick of sharp pain.</p><p> </p><p>He hissed in shock, and slapped her hand away.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, you wouldn’t want your Mother to worry, would you?” Nomura said with a playful tone, gesturing to the doorway. He rolled his bright blue eyes at her as he got up to his feet shakily, sweat shining on his forehead even though it was mostly covered by an unruly fringe. Mid-step, in a flash of light that illuminated the storage area, he switched into his thin and scrawny human form. With pink flesh, his black eye bags were all the more prevalent.</p><p> </p><p>Waving, he looked back at her over his shoulder, and pulled up his blue hood. “Bye then - see you next time, Nomura!” He said, genuinely looking forwards to another training session, even if it did mean another set of bruises.</p><p> </p><p>Once she was sure Jim had left the museum, Nomura switched to her own human form and took her phone out of her pocket. She scrolled through her contacts until she found, <em> Entitled Brit. </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “Nomura?” </em>He asked in a tired voice, scratchy vowels.</p><p> </p><p>“Strickler.” She answered with an unhappy tone.</p><p> </p><p><em> “What is it? I’m grading papers and I don’t have much time.” </em> Nomura scoffed audibly, no doubt reaching his ears on the other end of the line.</p><p> </p><p>“We need to talk about Li-James, Strickler.” Pausing, she tapped her foot on the ground. “He’s old enough to know everything by now, especially what we intend to do with his little crush.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “The Trollhunter, you mean?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Obviously.” He sighed on the other end. “Who else would I mean? If Jim knows that we are going behind his back, he’ll disobey us, leave us, reveal us to the world if that’s what his teenage rebellion wants to do. You know how kids are, Strickler - they’ll do anything to honour their beloved <em> ‘crushes’ </em>” Nomura paced as she spoke, frowning.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Well what would you suggest, hmmm? That we tell the boy we intend on murdering his friend? Nomura - you know that will end in disaster!” </em> Strickler hissed, and she could imagine his eyes glowing. <em> “All we can do, is keep him on our side. The less he knows, the better - for his own safety and the order’s” </em></p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“The less he knows? Pale Lady, Strickler- the boy does not even know who Gunmar really is!”</p><p>“<em> Now-” </em>Strickler tried to interrupt her, unsuccessfully.</p><p> </p><p>Nomura spoke over him, loudly and seething. “You have fed him some fairytale about <em> changeling prosperity </em>,” She spat the words out. “ and sooner or later he’ll stop believing in it.”</p><p> </p><p>“It does not matter what he believes in - Soon, the Trollhunter will be dead, the amulet will be ours, and the bridge will be opened. Whether or not Jim likes it, Gunmar <em> will </em> reign.”</p><p> </p><p>Nomura didn’t even answer, just hung up, and shoved the phone back in her pocket.</p><p> </p><p>Logically, she knew he was right. Jim’s opinions didn’t matter. He was just another pawn, dispensable as Nomura was.</p><p> </p><p>The Janus Order was not known for its kindness, no matter how young or naive the trespasser was. If Little Gynt stepped out of line, or disagreed with killing the Trollhunter, he’d be dead within the hour.</p><p> </p><p>But if Claire Nuñez happened to just...<em> die, </em> from a mundane accident, then-</p><p> </p><p>-Then Jim wouldn’t have to know the Order had anything to do with it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So yeah, Steve blushes green, which is gonna make future interactions with Eli suuper awkward....</p><p>Nomura, I know you're just trying to look out for Jim, but murdering his future girlfriend might not be the best way to go about it.</p><p>This is more of a filler chapter, so it isnt based off the show's episodes, but next chapter we will be moving onto WAKA CHAKA, part one.</p><p>Leave a comment please, of you enjoyed, or have any questions.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Waka Chaka! part one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve and Eli have a little...chat, Jim and Claire grow closer in a boring museum, and Eli gains proof of the supernatural</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm sorry this is so late school is hell</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Eli was confused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Confuddled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Muddled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because Steve Palchuk had just apologized to him - </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>- Steve Palchuk had punched someone for him</span>
  <em>
    <span> and</span>
  </em>
  <span> apologized within the span of a few days.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was it some sort of sick prank?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eli remembered the way Steve had shuffled on his feet on his porch, averting his eyes as he said he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He hadn’t seemed like he was lying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as he’d shut the door on Steve, he walked stiffly through the house to his bedroom, and beat the crap out of his pillows with a rage he never knew he had. Fists pummeled into the cotton, knuckles stinging from where they’d been scraped in the alley the day before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At first, he was relieved that it meant no more bullying, no more harassment. Maybe he'd be able to actually get through the day without mountains of anxiety. But then he just got annoyed, irritated. Steve didn’t get to waltz up to Eli, say he was sorry, and then all would be forgiven. Steve didn’t deserve to have it so easy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve didn’t deserve having the easy way out after all the ways he’d broken Eli down without even realising.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Steve, laughing at him as his basketball friends whispered loudly behind large hands.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Aaaaw, little Pepperjack wants his mommy!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Steve, towering above him and shouting horrible things to put him down.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“ ‘Sup freakface?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh you want your stupid little nerdy book back?” Steve threw it into the still-wet shower stalls, filled with the nauseating sweaty stench. “Go get it!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Steve, making him feel as though he was as insignificant as the specks of dirt on his trainers.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve didn’t get to be fucking sorry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eli was roused from his rage-filled thoughts by the doorbell, and a harsh knocking that didn’t stop until he opened it up. Outside, it was dark and cold, a freakish wind brushing up against his legs on the threshold of his house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A delivery man holding a crushed and crippled cardboard box stood before him, an unimpressed and tired look on his long face.  With an uninterested glance, he spied the name printed on the address. “Pepperjack?” He asked in a toneless voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eli only nodded, and took the heavy box from him, arms almost buckling from its weight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Damn, mythology books are heavy…’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without so much as a goodbye, the delivery man walked away dejectedly, splashes of oncoming rain soaking into his baseball cap. After Eli shut the door to keep out anymore unwanted cold air, he heard the delivery truck engine running, driving off to another destination.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t care what Steve had said about monsters not being real - those stone creatures, battling under the bridge, must’ve been.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Eli was going to find out </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what they were.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>                                                                     --------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From a rising totem in the Arena floor, brats of fire came out in twin flames, almost scorching off Claire’s hair. She rolled onto the floor, and came to balance in a crouch position, blade drawn diagonally. Breathing hard, she tried to spot where the next obstacle would come from. Steve wasn’t with her this morning, deciding to try out a few more spells before they headed to school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky watched her with intrigue, standing quite close but somehow never getting hit by anything. Maybe the Forge had been built for the specifics of only gruesomely damaging Trollhunters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, another totem with rows of holes rose out of a slit in the ground, this time from her left. She had no warning as a group of stone arrows raced towards her, narrowly missing their target as she sprinted away, pivoting in the air to slash down and sever the arrowheads.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Claire was being honest, she felt pretty damn cool.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The adrenaline, the rush of having to fight, it was becoming something she enjoyed rather than feared. Blinky had been right - that one hit in the alley fight </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> changed her. For the better, she hoped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Remember rule one, Miss Claire!” Blinky shouted, cautiously eyeing her relaxing posture. As another totem rose from the ground behind her menacingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shrugged and half-smiled, letting her grip on the blade go a little loose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Blink,I-” She fell face-first on the floor, the armour clanging on the sandy stone as a firm rock smashed into the small of her back. Groaning, she let Daylight clatter from her hand and smushed her cheek on the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky hummed in disapproval, walking around her as if thinking of all the ways to criticise her technique. “Draal will not give you the opportunity to get cocky, you know.” He reminded her, dragging her onto her feet by looping a hand over her arm. It was like picking up a toy doll dropped from a little girl’s hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire balanced herself on her feet, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Can’t that be enough for today? I still have some homework I’d like to do. You know, so I don’t fail school and get murdered by my Mom.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky’s eyes widened in shock. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your own Mother would kill you?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He whispered, alarmed and gripping Claire’s shoulders so that he could bore right into her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span> No, no, I was being sarcastic, Blinky.” She laughed, and pried his clasped grip off of her. “If I’m getting murdered, I doubt it would be by my own Mother.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky rolled his eyes at her, and strolled back to the sidelines. With a hand, he waved her off. “I suppose just a few more exercises should suffice, then you can get back home to your possibly murderous Mother.” He said, a hint of playfulness in his voice. He stomped his elephantine foot, and another totem rose up on her right, hurling long and thin lances that tried to impale her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>                                     -----------</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-And </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, should be all you’ll need for the next few days.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Days? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Blinky, these’ll keep me busy for the next few months!” Claire precariously grappled with the heavy pile of books laid upon her, trollish tomes detailing the rise and fall of many opponents. Each one of them felt as dense as a slab of lead!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Huffing, Blinky removed two of them from her arms, leaving her with only one. “Well, it is possible you could simply come back to get more, if you are to finish that one soon enough.” Walking away, he slotted the two books onto the shelf, back in their rightful places.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His library was calm, cut off from the rest of the Market, as desolate as the libraries in the human world. The chattering of many stone-tongued creatures from the street outside was like white noise, not so different from the constant chatter at Claire’s high school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire leaned against his table, absentmindedly rubbing the edges of the amulet in her hand, drooped at her side. Blinky was still over by his shelf, running a finger on the stone slates to check for dust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, I really enjoyed the last book you lent me - the one with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>scorpion scumpatrus</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Benavile beheaded with his ‘Soul-destroying axe’.” She laughed nervously. “It’s a lot more interesting than human history, </span>
  <em>
    <span>trust </span>
  </em>
  <span>me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky’s eyes lit up, and he scurried over to her. “You enjoyed the book?” He asked in disbelief, mouth agape. The long blue face was just inches from Claire’s, sock breath washing over her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She scratched her neck, and tried to lean away. “Uh, yeah, I guess - was I not supposed to?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The laugh he let out was sharp, maniacal almost. Like the beat of a drum in the middle of a seren opera piece. “Of course you were meant to enjoy it! I only meant that it is so rare to find another that prefers works of literature!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire relaxed, knowing that she hadn’t offended him in any way. When it came to books, she could talk for ages. “Doesn’t AAARRGH like books too? I mean he lives in a library with you, so I just kinda assumed some of the books were his,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky waved her off with a grin. “Oh, no. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alas</span>
  </em>
  <span>, books are not one of the things AAARRGH and I have in common.” He frowned, tapping a finger against his chin. “Actually, we don’t really have much of anything in common - We just enjoy the other’s company, I believe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She chuckled. “That’s actually really sweet, Blink.” She hadn’t thought trolls could blush, but Blinky looked away to hide his, coughing. “How did you two meet, anyway?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m not sure you want to know all the specifics of that, dear girl. However, when we first met, we could barely be in the same room as the other without getting in a fight!” He looked as if he was recalling a fond memory, eyes drifting off. Although Claire couldn’t understand how fighting AAARRGH would become a happy memory. Intrigued, she cleared her throat to get his attention, and slipped onto a stool. “So when did you two become closer?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled, and patted her on the shoulder before dragging out a stool for himself to sit next to her. “Well, you see, eventually I got fed up of our constant bickering, and so I challenged him to a duel - much like you did to Draal.” He pointed a finger at her. “Somehow, I managed to find his blind spot, and used the leverage of a rather large boulder to knock him unconscious, thereby winning the fight. After tha-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claire!” Steve burst through the door of the library, half wearing a hoodie. His hair was a mess, and his backpack was unzipped over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Standing up, Caire raised her hands, as if to say : </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘What are you doing?’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>She came over and placed a hand on his shoulder, frowning. “Steve? Why are you in Trollmarket, I thought I said I’d meet you in the canals at eight?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes, and pointed to the watch on her thin wrist with a jab. “It’s twenty past! We’re late!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>                                                     -----------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve and Claire stood sweltering in the sunny morning, along with the rest of their classmates outside the museum. Dull, grey steps led up to an even duller grey door, with dull beige curtains and duller yet, black bars over the windows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim smiled and stood next to Claire, earning a stink-eye from Steve. Something didn’t feel right with Lake, to him. However, he was roused from his thoughts by the purple-dressed woman gesticulating and loudly projecting her voice over them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Though contemporary media might lead you to believe European history is full of swords, sorcery, and scandal, I assure you the truth is </span>
  <em>
    <span>far</span>
  </em>
  <span> more interesting.” Nomura’s green eyes glinted in wonder, though the children in front of her only looked as if they wanted one of the swords she mentioned to impale them. “There’s no better pace to start than Renaissance Era pottery!” Smiling proudly, she made eye contact with Jim, who frowned at her, unimpressed. He’d already been on the receiving end of enough of her pottery lectures, </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span> very much. The rest of the teenagers collectively groaned and hung their heads.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before she could continue, Strickler cleared his throat. “Perhaps, Ms Nomura, it would be better to let them wander around the museum themselves? We</span>
  <em>
    <span> are </span>
  </em>
  <span>on a limited schedule, you see.” He tapped his silver watch to demonstrate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” She said politely, through gritted teeth, and getsured for the bumbling teens to hurry on inside. One of the little brats almost stepped on her toes. Honestly, the only thing she admired Strickler for was his ability to put up with them every day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve dredged his feet over the threshold, trailing behind Claire. “How long will this take?” He asked her in a pained voice, after being inside for no less than a minute. Already, it was looking boring. As far as the eye could see, there were rows and rows of cabinets, all filled with the blasted pottery. A few stony arches led into other rooms, though through the doorways he could see they too contained equally boring objects. White, fluorescent light illuminated everything harshly, like it was under inspection.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire crossed her arms over her chest, and raised an eyebrow just for effect. “I don’t know Steve - Why don’t you go ask Eli?” Over his shoulder, she pointed at the small one huddled around a glass display case. No one else was with him, letting him blend in to the background.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laughing sarcastically, Steve shook his head. “No,</span>
  <em>
    <span> no way</span>
  </em>
  <span>, what if he doesn’t want to see me?” Claire started pushing him, ramming him across the marble floor. “He probably hates me - I deserve it too, I mean, I’m a dick, and he’s, well, you know, super intelligent and all, and, uh, also…” With one final shove, Claire sent him skidding across the floor, coming to a halt right behind Eli.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stood behind him for ten seconds, just staring at his deep, brown hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Should he tap him on the shoulder? No, that might be too touchy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H-hey.” Steve whispered, causing Eli to spin around. Below his hood, Steve could still see the huge bruise on his face, like a splodge of paint. Round eyes stared back up at him from behind glasses in silence, before averting down again. He looked frail, really, like a scarecrow that had lost all its straw.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve, hi.” Awkwardly, Eli replied to him, before turning around stiffly so that he could go back to studying a teapot in the cabinet. “Do you want something?” He added on after a while, creeped out by how Steve seemed to just...</span>
  <em>
    <span>loom</span>
  </em>
  <span> over him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spluttering, the jock stepped back, but bounced into a green marble column, almost falling over. Clumsily, he laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “No, don’t, uh, don’t need anything, but-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eli’s fists balled at his sides, though because of his oversized hoodie, Steve didn’t notice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But what, Steve?” Eli harshly cut into him with his words, almost snarling. “Do you think that cause you did the bare minimum of an apology, you can just act like nothing happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-no, uh-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just because you hit a guy for me doesn’t make you a hero!” Eli watched how he backed up, pressed against the column. People were starting to watch, but he didn’t really care anymore. “You said that if I needed something, you’d do it, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve nodded fervently, eyes wide.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well then leave me alone, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Steve</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Just leave me the Hell alone.” His whole body shaking with adrenaline, Eli turned back around, and stared aimlessly at the objects in the cabinet. Steve’s feet made squeaky noises on the floor as he walked away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire watched Steve attempting to speak to Eli,stuttering something out and then almost tripping over a marble column. Hopefully, the conversation was going well. She turned her thoughts back to the beautiful notebooks behind some glass, tuning out the noise of idle chatter all around her. She’d been hoping to talk to Jim, but he’d been busy with Toby, gawking at some medieval swords together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe he’d notice she was wearing the pins he gave her?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one tried to talk with her, but she found she liked it, not exactly the social butterfly type.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Claire,” A voice came from behind her, Darci and Mary having crept up on her with the skills of a ninja. Mary crossed her arms over her chest and squinted at her suspiciously. “We need to have a talk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her face went red, and she started looking for exits, as if she was about to go up against Bular again. “A t-talk? Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darci and Mary exchanged a look that meant business, both of them rating a hand on one of her shoulders. “Claire,” Darci started off, uncertainly smiling. “We’re worried about you! What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire tried to smile back, though her eyes still stayed anxious, a deer in headlights. “Nothing, I’m fine!” She blurted out, finding it hard to make eye contact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darci dropped her hand from her shoulder, putting her hands on her hips and stepping forwards so that Claire was almost pressed up against the case. “Then why do you keep ignoring and avoiding us?” She insistently questioned, raising an eyebrow cockily. She had definitely inherited her interrogation skills from her father, the Detective.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mary had a similar, curious expression on, leaning upwards and crossing her arms over her chest. Her pink lips puckered as she spoke. “Yeah Claire, you know we’re always here for you, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire blushed, and ran her hand over the strap of her bag as a distraction“O-of course, yeah, yeah, you know. It’s just my Mom.” They both looked at her in understanding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darci’s dark brown eyes softened, and she spoke with a calmer voice. “She getting mad at you again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not really, just, well, things are tense.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tense?” Mary parroted, looking worried. “Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Trollhunter raised her hands up in surrender, and raised her voice due to the stress. How long could she keep lying to them? “I don’t know, okay? I just, I just,” She ran a hand through her hair nervously, before speaking quietly. “I just need some space, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t need space. What she needed was her friends to hug her and cradle her like she was a little kid, to tell her everything would be alright.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But what they needed was to be safe. To be pushed away from her, from all her troubles, from all her danger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her two friends looked at her with pity, imagining a daughter who had shouting matches with her Mom each day after school. Darci was about to lean over and hug her, Mary to follow close behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire stepped back, and adjusted her bag on her shoulders. Forcing herself to meet their eyes, she put on the firmest voice she could, mouth set in a cold line. “Just, leave me alone guys. I don’t need your help.” Turning around, she stalked away, not wanting to watch their faces fall. In the reflection of a glass case, she saw a tear fall down her cheek, trailing a river along her skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire was a bomb, really. You get too close to her, you’ll get hurt. Steve was already so deep in the world of trolls, magic, and hell, even wizards, that there was no backing out of it now. Mary and Darci, though? They were out of the blast zone, out of the crater of her destruction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She fell inside her head for awhile, not thinking where she was going.The halls, thin, long and arching, seemed to stretch on forever, allowing her to walk and walk and walk. Past a group of boys, skirting around a suit of armour, along the shelves of ancient teacups, feet clipping the polished tiles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually she got to a part of the museum where nobody was around, just herself and a few medieval dresses with fraying stitchwork. It was a small room, with painted glass windows that blocked her from seeing what was outside, but cast the room in a deep red glow. Everything was so still, she felt as though one of the dresses behind its glass case would move, like a marionette on strings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stone bricks curved in a ceiling, wooden beams crisscrossing in a more rustic style that the rest of the museum. Even the floor was a polished dark wood rather than tiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She heard someone step in behind her, slowly and off kilter, as if they were unsure of where they were going. “Claire?” Jim asked tentatively, coming closer. He stopped behind her shoulder, looking at her sad reflection in the glass display case. “Claire, are you okay?” Concerned, his eyebrows furrowed together, and if her mind wasn’t thinking about so many things at once, she would’ve noticed it was rather cute. She did notice though, that since they’d had rehearsals together, he’d stopped stuttering around her so much, more confident in what he said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, Jim. Just admiring this dress.” She pressed her palm up against the glass, feeling the cool surface jarringly. The dress inside was white and red, puffed sleeves and a simple golden embroidery of flowers around the belt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He chuckled. “Yeah. It’s pretty beautiful, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘But not as beautiful as her,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>He kept to himself. Claire looked tired, no makeup on her face to cover the bags beneath her eyes. He guessed Trollhunting wasn’t exactly the ‘kick back and do nothing’ type of job. Beaten pink sneakers shuffled at her feet, below the rolled up cuffs of her jeans, rips going up the denim in ladders. Where a large hole had widened across her knee, a few leg hairs poked out, along with lines of red like she’d scraped it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Trollhunter fiddled with the pins on her jacket, absentmindedly running a fingertip over the Shakespeare quoting one Jim had gave her. She laughed nervously, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Blue streaks looked alot like rivers, or rainfall, to Jim. “I wish we had costumes like these for our play - at this rate, Juliet’s gonna be wearing Belle’s dress from last year’s production!” She laughed, longingly gazing at the garment with lovesick eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He chuckled. “At least I won’t have to look like the Beast, though it comes with the price of wearing </span>
  <em>
    <span>tights.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He shuddered at the word. Claire laughed, and brushed up against his shoulder. Blushing, he went all stiff, and tried to think about medieval dresses rather than the closeness of his crush at that given moment. All sharp edges, he felt like if he got too close to her she’d cut him open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But over the past week or so, since he’d gotten to know her better through the play, she’d become so much more than just his crush. Each rehearsal he unlocked another room in her brain, learning things about her that he never would have guessed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She liked the Arctic Monkeys, and hated the colour yellow, because she thought it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘too yellow’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, whatever that means. Rain was her preferred weather, since the loudness of it made it seem as if the rest of the world would fade away, and she could be alone. Cats were her favourite animal, black ones especially, because of her love for the macabre. The way she dressed gave off an image of carelessness and hatred, but the way she smiled, one corner of her lips quirking up more than the other, was the warmest smile he’d ever seen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire focused on the pretty ribbons criss-crossing the bodice, dreaming about how wonderful the dress would look on a balcony. She sighed. That would never happen - at least not for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The silence, standing next to Jim was comfortable, no need to say anything except the odd comment here or there. It was refreshing from the way she constantly felt as though she had to talk around her mother, or around her friends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cleared his throat, gaining her attention. Her small head tilted up to meet his blue eyes, one eyebrow raised. “Uh, you know, I think, that you’re-” He fiddled with the fraying strings of his blue hoodie, which Claire had rarely ever seen him without. “I think that you’re the only person on stage who really knows what they’re doing, you know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire blushed a little. “Oh, thanks, Jim.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You look like you were born to be on stage,” He blurted out, not really thinking. Immediately, his eyes widened, and he looked away as if his shoes were suddenly the most interesting things in the world.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Outside the room, people’s voices were starting to grow louder in argument, disrupting the peace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eli, I’m telling you man, that’s obviously fake!” Claire recognised the voice of Toby, almost shouting, his voice whiny. Through the arched doorway, she saw him throw his hands up in exasperation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim and Claire exchanged a confused look, edging towards the doorway where the two short boys were arguing. They both had their backs to them, huddled over something that Eli was wildly getsuring at.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eli straightened his glasses and grabbed Toby’s arm in a strong grip. His fingers were so thin they felt like claws. “But </span>
  <em>
    <span>Toby</span>
  </em>
  <span>, why would anyone go through all the trouble of making it so realistic if they were just gonna leave it in the middle of a road?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ginger one spluttered, and yanked his arm away, starting to walk off. “Well...I don’t know, okay- Jim?” He caught sight of his best friend through the doorway. “I thought you said you went to the toilet?” His green eyes stared at them with curiosity, almost narrowing with suspicion. Thick arms crossed over his chest, and he grinned. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, oh I see what you’re doing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jimbo.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Toby waggled his eyebrows suggestively.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim’s face went a brilliant hue of red, and he scrambled forwards to try and drag Toby away from Claire. “Toby-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Toby’s only response was a wolf-whistle, which sounded breathless from how he was also laughing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire rolled her eyes at their antics, and pushed past where they blocked the doorway, tuning out their bickering. From her peripheral, she saw Jim clamp a hand over Toby’s mouth, trying to stop him from embarrassing him further.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The corridor outside the room with the dresses was mostly empty except for the four of them, filled with cabinets displaying rusted daggers and helmets, illuminated under a harsh electrical light. Above them, green glass formed a dome, letting in streams of sunlight that reflected off of Eli’s glasses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Defeated, Eli stared down at the phone in his hand, obviously being the thing he was trying to show Toby. Claire stepped forwards, and tapped him on the shoulder, smiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What were you trying to show Toby?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eli looked happy to see her, turning around and showing relief on his face, as if he’d been expecting to see someone much worse. “Hey Claire, uh, I just wanted to show Toby this weird thing I found on my road this morning.” He switched on his phone, and held up a photo to her face. “Whatever it is, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>normal.” He spoke in a suspicious voice, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire agreed with him. It was not normal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A green, four-limbed creature looked as through it had splattered into a pile of green gloop, hairy ears half-liquified and red eyes staring glassily in different directions.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Claire, being rude to your friends is only going to bite you in the ass</p><p>From now on, I will be slowing down to only one update a week. </p><p>I hope you enjoyed, please leave a kudo or comment if you enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Waka Chaka, part two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Goblins, no matter which au they are in, are never nice.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I RISE FROM THE DEAD, DEAR READERS.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>The blue troll sighed wearily. “Yes, definitely a goblin, I’m afraid.” Blinky stopped poking the magical roadkill with a stick, and let it clatter to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d waited until it was late enough for Eli to surely be in bed, and then snuck out from their respective housing to inspect the lime goop splattered on the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Above them, the moon and stars shone brightly from where no clouds covered them, like a million eyes judging. Soft swooshes of a breeze occasionally briskly fled by them, but for the most part it was quite a nice night. Distant cars made chugging noises that blew over to them through the air, echoing like a quiet and fizzing radio.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Eli’s house happened to be situated in the loneliest section of Arcadia’s urban sprawl, with only a few neighbours and a back garden that led straight into the menacing woods. Tall trees towered above the roof of the bungalow, nesting a few crows that would occasionally let out a screeching caw.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve pulled his hoodie tighter around himself, swinging his arms with relentless energy. AAARRGH watched him and almost giggled, before using his large hands to pin Steve’s arms to his sides. “Stop moving, too much distrac-tion.” He whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bashfully, Steve nodded his head, and shrugged AAARRGH away. “Yeah, sorry Big Guy.” With his left hand, he patted the giant troll’s arm, and then crowded around the goblin with Blinky and Claire.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s a goblin, Blinky?” Claire asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She was wearing the same clothes she had at the museum trip, but with a woolly blue hat over her loose hair. Suspiciously, Steve squinted at her, swearing that Lake had been wearing the same hat before he went to rehearsals.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Putting his lower set of hands on his hips, he sighed in disgust. “Petty, thieves, nothing more than rampant chaos causers!” With his six eyes, he searched the dark shadows cast all around them by streetlamps. “However, one of them being killed is not good news, I’m afraid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve covered his nose with his hand and gagged. When he spoke, his voice was squeaky from how he pinched his nostrils. “Ugh, why does it smell so much?” The stench of rotten food was everywhere, infiltrating their airways.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Blinky wrinkled his triangular nose, and nodded, casting one more look of disdain at the splattered creature. “I concur with Steven - let us move away a few paces.” With a hand he beckoned them to follow, and he sat himself down on a jutting rock next to the sidewalk. AAARGH dropped down onto the grass behind him with a thump.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Just a few metres from Eli’s house, Steve felt a little anxious they might get spotted. Hopefully since he was a nerd, Pepperjack would be in bed nice and early. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Stay the Hell away from me.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve scoffed to himself - right bang-up job he was doing of Eli’s request, hanging around his freaking house at night.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In a rumbling voice, the green giant spoke up from behind his husband, pointing at the deceased goblin solemnly. “We need, to watch - for </span>
  <em>
    <span>more.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He pointed out, green eyes lingering on Claire as she looked over her shoulder at the green mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘more’</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Surely justice has been served, and now I can get back to training for Draal, right Blink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head vigorously, raising a finger like a point. “Oh no, Miss Claire - where there is one, there is many! And it is your job as Trollhunter to stop them!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised an eyebrow at him, and spread her arms out, walking along the pavement a few paces. “Stop them? There aren’t any here!” She pointed out, raising her brows as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Prove me wrong.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Blinky pursed his lips in disapproval, somehow looking down on her even though he was sitting lowered. “Not yet, there aren’t.” Yellow eyes scoured the environment, as though another little gremlin might pop up at any given moment. Alas, all that could be heard nearby was their own breathing, and the trees rustling in the breeze. Blinky stood up, and animatedly gestured towards the pressed goblin. “Unfortunately, whichever poor soul ran </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> one over, will share a similar fate.” His lips seemed to curl up even more exaggeratedly when he spoke about people dying, Claire had noticed, like he was reading poetry. She was beginning to understand that death for trolls meant something different than death for humans. Blinky decided to elaborate a bit more, leaning forward as if sharing a secret. “Naturally, goblin payback is tenfold  - may Skaargen’s swift blade have mercy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Naturally,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Claire thought dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The blue troll suddenly spat on all four of his hands, and then clapped them together. Perhaps a trollish way of warding evil?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Claire imagined a little green goblin wildly cackling as it hijacked a car to run some poor sod over, before realising such a small creature would probably pick a different method of extermination. “Do you think the person who did this is dead already?” She asked, gruesomely picturing their death in her head. Blinky seemed to ponder on this a moment, absentmindedly biting his lip. Whilst he thought, Claire looked around their surroundings. They were lucky that Steve had known Eli’s address.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Something scuttled about the shadows next to Eli’s brown garage, long, furred, and with four limbs. Her eyes had adjusted more to the darkness by now, but she still had to blink a few times just to make sure what she was seeing was real.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Just a cat Claire, just a cat…’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Blinky pondered on something, he fiddled with the loop on his leather belt, staring up at the stars. AAARRGH seemed to be sniffing something in the grass outside Eli’s house, his head stooped to the ground like a cow grazing, brown nose tickling the frosty grass. Her human friend watched him with interest, occasionally asking what certain plants smelt like to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, Blinky seemed to come to a conclusion, his eyes sparkling as he pointed at Claire with conviction. “I have no idea whether they are dead or not.” He told her, as though this was great news.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” She asked, slapping a hand to her forehead in exasperation. A cool breeze fluttered past her, and she was glad for Jim’s hat. Although, since his head was a little bigger than hers, it had a habit of sinking down over her brows - frustrated, she scrunched it further up her head. “Blinky, if this person’s still alive, what do we do?” She started pacing along the grass, linking her hands together behind her neck. Steve looked as though he was about to say something to her, mouth opening and closing like a fish, but stepped out of her way, leaning against their porch in a stalkerish manner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do we warn them?” She continued, playing out all the possible scenarios in her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Claire?” Steve started, pointing at Eli’s house over his shoulder, but she could hardly see him in her peripherals.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a hint of disgust, she spent a look at the deceased critter, turning around so she could pace again, in a small circuit on front of Blinky, “What do goblins even</span>
  <em>
    <span> do</span>
  </em>
  <span> to their victims?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clearing his throat, Steve tried to talk a little louder. “G-guys, I think I found something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AAARRGH stopped sniffing the ground, and rose up to his crouched height, lumbering to the wooden porch. “Found something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve nodded and grinned, then vaulted himself up the few illuminated steps in front of the door. For a moment, Claire thought he was going to ring their doorbell, but instead he took something off the white door, what looked like a red and white note. Since he was a bit higher than Claire, where she stood on the grass in the shadows, he leaned over the fence around the porch and gave it to her, slipping it between her little fingers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The note was the size of her palm, from a delivery company.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Issue : </b>
  <em>
    <span>Gave u wrong package - sorry. Be back later with right one.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Time Of Return : </b>
  <em>
    <span>23 : 47</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you think the delivery driver did it?” Steve nodded, and jumped down to the ground from the steps. He pointed at the return time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t this soon?” He asked, tapping his wrist in the sign for watch. She fumbled with the note, handing it back to him, and rolled up her jacket so she could see the time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn, yeah.” She started to head towards the trees behind Eli’s house, beckoning the others to follow her. “Come on guys, you gotta hide - delivery guy could come any second!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve held his phone in his hand, staring at the glowing numbers as the truck pulled up in front of the house. The two trolls and two humans crouched behind a series of bushes, at a vantage point so that they could see the back end of the stationary truck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eleven forty six, delivery man arrives at house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rings the doorbell...and is apparently not answered for another…..” He waited patiently for the shrill ringing of a doorbell to sound. “...Twenty seconds!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God Steve.” Claire facepalmed. “What are you even doing? This isn’t a spy movie!” She whispered, not wanting to draw attention.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the darkness, he shrugged. “We’re close enough - I’ll call this…” He tapped a finger to his chin. “Rise of the Goblin Goop!” Like showcasing a movie, he did the wavy jazz hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice movie.” AAARRGH noted from where he was laid on the floor behind them, like a lazy bear. Steve fist-bumped him gently. “Thanks man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Roughly, Claire yanked on the other human’s sleeve, and dragged him along the wall of the house. Like spies, they edged along it, until she could just peek her head around the corner and glimpse the delivery guy asking to ‘hit the can’. Eli had a disgruntled look on his face, but he let the man in to relieve himself before shutting out the night air. As they waited for the goblins to show themselves, she beckoned for the two trolls to come over, listening to their heavy feet grow closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then it was just their group, huddled outside a house of a student, and hunting a mythical creature.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire missed maths tests.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When nothing happened, Blinky sighed in disappointment, half-heartedly gesturing at the metal truck on the road. “It seems, the only thing delivered, was failed expectations.” He pointed out bitterly. He seemed ready to turn around and leave, until his ears caught a rustling sound across the street. And then another crack, a twig being snapped underfoot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red eyes glowed from underneath the truck, one pair, then two, then three, and then all of a sudden tens of them blinked on like flashlights, apparently hiding in weight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Trollhunter group stood impeccably still, held against the wall of the bungalow a few yards away from where the truck was parked. The shadows of the concrete wall casted them in darkness, thankfully unnoticed by the swarm of monsters scrabbling over the vehicle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pricking claws scrabbled for purchase in the metal body, ripping into the supposedly impenetrable surface as though it was paper origami. Their long and spider-like limbs bent and sprang, shooting a few like cannonballs onto the roof. Tangy metallic sounds of tearing steel scratched their ears as patches of the shell were ripped off, shoved into large mouths like pieces of popcorn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In horror, the four of them held their breath, huddled close to the wall in an attempt to hide themselves. Claire held a hand over her agape mouth, brown eyes wide in fear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do not be afraid, lest they smell it and decide to eat us too!” Blinky harshly whispered, noticing how goosebumps prickled at the two human’s skin, Steve’s whole body shaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the goblins cackled maniacally, jumping through a hole in the top of the body so that it could reach the parcels inside. By now, almost the entire front half was gone - stuffed inside of their unearthly stomachs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve whimpered, and pressed himself up against AAARGH’s chest for protection, watching above Claire’s shoulder until the last morsels of the truck were gone. One of the goblins burped, proudly licking its lips after a scrumptious urban dinner. The whole ‘dish’ , as you might call the truck, had been devoured within a few minutes, showing such stealth, speed, and strength, that Claire thought she’d rather have another session with Bular than go up against this green horde.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, they seemed to congregate, their webbed feet slapping against the ground as they started running, en masse, down the darkened street, somehow not being noticed by any civilians. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire held her breath, and eyed the last creature as it scuttled out of her frame of view. A slightly distressed grin started on her face, and she turned around to look at Steve, whose face was as pale as a sheet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky let out a small laugh, still quiet enough in case a goblin’s pointed ear could still hear them. He whispered, “To think that their vengeance was on the automobile, rather than the driver! Ha!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve and AAARGH both smiled, the larger troll patting the blond on the head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a nice moment, all four of them relishing in the fact that they were not goblin chow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a nice moment, until-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I’M ON THE HIGHWAY TO HELL! HIGHWAY TO HELL, OOOOOHHHHH-’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit my phone!” Steve fumbled around in his pocket, locating the small object, and declining the call. The loud, blaring song was as strong as a freight train, and once it stopped, there was a tense silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky and AAARGH stared at Steve’s phone with a mixture of curiosity and fear, frozen still as statues as they listened out for the tell-tale…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Waka chaka?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Waka….waka’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M-maybe they didn’t hear us?” Claire asked hopefully, eyeing the corner of Eli’s house as if a goblin would appear at any second. The sound of scraping feet and clawed hands grew closer, gaining speed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I think they heard us…” Steve whispered back, gulping and starting to shake all over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘WAKA CHAKA!!!’ A furry green face jumped in front of them, backed up by at least twenty more, all of them with hungry red eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire screamed, her armour appearing in a display of light that confused the goblins, if only for a few seconds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Run!” Blinky shouted, grabbing Claire’s arm and pulling her along as he sprinted on his tiny legs towards the trees. His partner threw the teenage boy onto his back, where Steve hung onto his green fur for dear life. AAARRGH’s stony body moved and jumped up and down, jiggling Steve all over the place like a leaf blown by the wind. With a soft thud, his phone slipped from his hands and landed in the path of the oncoming storm. “My phone!” He gasped, almost letting go to reach out for it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do not...be...afraid!” Blinky called out from the back of the group, his voice altered by his breathlessness. The closest goblin was just a metre behind him, cackling at the blue troll that was almost in his grasp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Afraid?” The Trollhunter gasped, almost tripping over a root in the gloomy forest. Currently, their only source of light for navigating the maze of trees was her mystical armour, and Merlin hadn’t been thinking of a built-in flashlight when he designed it. “I’m scared shitless, Blinky!” She growled back, her limbs screaming at her to rest. But with the orchestra of growls and shrieks that chased them, she couldn’t stop. Her hair whipped around her face from beneath the wooly blue hat, a few strands getting caught in her mouth. With a glance, she looked over her shoulder to see how Steve fared, watching with horror as he was pulled by the ankle onto the ground, his face splashing into the mud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve!” She screamed, pulling to a halt. In the dim light, she could only see roughly how his face contorted into panic, scrabbling with all his limbs until his back was pushed up against the trunk of a looming oak. Claire started running towards him, but in her attempt to get to him with haste, she had not watched her feet, falling onto her chest as one metal-encased foot got trapped beneath a root. The air was knocked out of her, and she found her arms too weak to do anything but reach in Steve’s direction. Dimly, she could hear AAARRGH roar as he realised his passenger had fallen off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve felt like crying, eyeing the circle of homicidal goblins surrounding him. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and goosebumps prickled all over his arms. One of them hissed at him, its saliva splattering on his face, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was this how things would end? He hadn’t even achieved anything yet - not really! And Eli…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Eli harshly cut into him with his words. “Do you think that cause you did the bare minimum of an apology, you can just act like nothing happened?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make things right with Eli. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouting, Steve tried to draw on the energies around him, the same way he had with the tree in his bedroom earlier. Except this time it was much more powerful - intense even, probably due to the fact that he was using nature magic </span>
  <em>
    <span>in nature. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He pulled in invisible strings attached to the oak behind his back, tugging its branches forwards as if it were a marionette.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Green sprouted from the roots of his hair until the golden locks had disappeared, becoming similar to the shade of AAARRGH’s back. Teeth gritted in determination. The red eyes of the goblin’s widened in fear as a thick branch leaned down, crossing over Steve’s body and quivering, like it could spring into action at any moment. It’s bark seemed to morph and become softer, like play-doh under Steve’s influence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grunting, he motioned with one hand and the branch swung across, hitting the green menaces like a wave and sending them tumbling into the bushes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a few seconds, there was silence, and then the scurrying noises of at least thirty goblins turning tail and fleeing in fear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire and Steve walked through the woods in a comfortable silence, the both of them trying to keep warm in the bitter cold. Each time they breathed, steam formed in the dark air, and beneath their feet a carpet of grass, leaves, and twigs crackled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you think I can ever make things right with Eli?” Steve asked out of the blue, stopping by a tall birch tree, its trunk thin and spindly as if the wind could knock it over at any moment. He turned to look at the hunter, tilting his face down so he could look her in the eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire crossed her arms, eyeing him with curiosity. The beams of light from Claire’s phone only illuminated the bottom of his face, so his eyes appeared to be a complete darkness. “Why couldn’t you? I thought you talked to him earlier in the museum.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve scratched the back of his head and chuckled sadly. “Yeah..about that - he pretty much just told me to fuck off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire winced. “Yeah...oof.” Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she fiddled with the cool amulet and tried to think of what to say. A few twigs snapped beneath her feet, unseen by the sweeping ray of light coming from Claire’s phone, which Steve was using as a torch. “Well I mean you did help him out in that alley, and then you apologized to him, so it’s a start I guess.” Shrugging, she tried not to stare at Steve’s almost electrically green hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With one hand, Steve started to inspect the tree, as if looking for something, brown eyes squinted in concentration. “He still hates me - I don’t know how I can make it right,” He admitted, after a short silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you can’t make it right, Steve.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing her thumb on his collarbone. “Sometimes things just don’t end well, and you can’t do anything about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” His face seemed to fall for a second, before flickering back to concentrating on where he walked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>But,</span>
  </em>
  <span> at least Jim’s started to warm up to you since you said you were sorry!” Claire leaned over as she talked, trying to cheer him up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yay</span>
  </em>
  <span> for me, I guess.” Sarcastically, he waved his hands in a jazzy style, as if amazed and excited for a potential friendship with James Lake Junior. “Just as long as he doesn’t flirt with me like he does with you.” He muttered, just loud enough for her to hear and gasp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire elbowed him below his ribs, pushing him away as he smiled. “Hey, he doesn’t flirt with me!” Her eyebrows scrunched together in annoyance, and she balanced both her hands on her hips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve snorted, and knelt down, using his bare hands to feel the dirt. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> he doesn’t. That’s why you’re wearing his hat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blushing, the feared Trollhunter started to stutter. “W-well, that’s because I was cold, okay? And Jim’s a-a nice guy, so he gave me his hat. There’s nothing more to it!” Rolling her eyes, she huffed, and knelt down next to him. “Whatever. Let’s just get some dirt for your spell, okay?” Still laughing a little, Steve handed Claire her phone so she could point the torch, and then withdrew a fabric pouch from his back pocket, made of a floral material and with a drawstring. With his hands, he started to scrape up some damp soil until he had a handful, which he then dropped into the pouch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t we have just used any old dirt?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve shook his head as he stood up, Claire following suit. “Nah - pretty sure my spellbook said it had to be from below a birch tree, since apparently birch is ‘good for finding things’, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> need to find my phone that the goblins took.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire giggled, remembering the ringtone that had played. At the time, it had scared the crap out of her, but in hindsight, it was kind of funny, “Oh yeah, I forgot to ask - who did you give the ringtone of ‘Highway to Hell’ on your phone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve mumbled something unintelligible, stuffing the pouch ‘o’ dirt into the pocket of his hoodie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, what, Steve?” Claire cupped a hand around her ear and leaned up close to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s my Dad’s ringtone, okay? Just a joke between us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Trollhunter stared at him in silence for a few seconds, the only sounds being how branches of leaves swayed in the wind above their heads.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...You’re really fucking weird, Steve.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gave her a cheeky smile. “I try my best,”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh Steve. You're trying but I don't think Eli really likes you all that much tbh. (Or at least, he doesnt like him much yet - soon enough the two of them will make amends)</p><p>Not much Jlaire in this chapter, sorry bout that.</p><p>PLEASE COMMENT IF YOU ENJOY BCAUSE I WANT TO KNOW WHAT PEOPLE THINK.</p><p>thanks bro.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Waka Chaka, part three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Kids, don't break into museums, trust me it's not fun.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, so there is a bit of blood, if that's not your thing, then I'd stop reading once you get to the actual breaking into the museum scene.</p><p>I'm only posting this chapter so soon after the last one because it was supposed to be the second half of last chapter, but I thought it was too long.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“These times of woe afford no time to woo.  Madam, good night. Commend me to your daughter.” Eli strutted across the stage, before lounging on a seat, playing the part of Paris onstage. Claire and Jim watched from behind the curtains, sharing a bag of haribo sweets. She plucked out one of the gummy rings and held it out to Jim, putting on her best<em> ye olde englif </em> accent. “Oh, Romeo!” She declared playfully in a whisper, as if proposing to him. Jim sniggered, and snatched the ring, which he then slid onto one of his large fingers before devouring it.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks, Claire.” He mumbled around a mouthful of gelatine.</p><p> </p><p>Claire waved dismissively. “You’re welcome. Oh, by the way, thanks for lending me your hat yesterday.” She bent over to pick her backpack off the floor, rummaging around in it to find the woolen object, which she then threw in Jim’s vague direction.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” He caught it just before it slapped his face. “I barely ever wear it, anyway.” A strawberry scent was attached to it, probably Claire's shampoo. What he <em>was</em> wearing, was a pair of blue jeans, and a red T-shirt, revealing arms that...weren’t as skinny as Claire thought they were. She herself had also dressed more plainly for rehearsals, her pin-spangled jacket chucked over black jeans and a dark pink blouse.</p><p> </p><p>They were the only ones backstage, just waiting really for when Ms. Janeth dismissed them. Tired and slightly traumatised from the night before, heavy bags sat below her eyes, showing up even underneath her concealer. She'd barely slept - every time she heard a creak or rumble from the house her mind convinced her it must be a goblin, or some other magical rodent. Claire came to the conclusion that this was why so many Trollhunters had died - sleep deprivation.</p><p> </p><p>Jim cleared his throat. “So, uh, what’re you doing after rehearsals?” Though his anxiousness made it hard, he tried to continue looking Claire in her big, brown eyes. Light pink eyeshadow blossoming over her eyelids seemed to make her face look even warmer, matching with the shade of her lips. Without the strings of his hoodie to fiddle with, he nervously toyed with the hat between his fingers. “It’s just, you know, I really enjoyed practicing my lines with you at the weekend, and those milkshakes were super good, so-”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry Jim, but I promised Steve I’d have a study date with him.” Claire tried to politely cut him off, even though the prospect of hanging out with him was very tempting. However, she really had promised Steve that she’d help him - just not with studying.</p><p> </p><p>Jim’s eyes widened. “Stu-study date?” He tried to ask casually, as if he was just asking what the time was, although he ended up sounding slightly strained. He tried to lean against a black wall, but stumbled back accidentally because his elbow missed it. To salvage his mistake, he adjusted the hem of his shirt as if the task was of the utmost importance. <em> Steve? And Claire - on a date? </em>He felt his heart plummet to the ground and get smashed, as if beaten by a horde of angry trolls.</p><p> </p><p>But Claire was quick to correct him, blushing and raising her voice a little. “Not-not like that! Just a study thing, no, no dating stuff happening there!” She waved her hands about, as if slapping the mere thought repeatedly in the face.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Awkwardly, they both watched Eli continue performing from behind the deep crimson curtains. Claire felt like disappearing into thin air, and Jim similarly so.</p><p> </p><p>She smiled and picked up her bag from the floor, swinging it over one shoulder. “I should really get going - I don’t think Ms.Janeth’s gonna realise the time anytime soon. But, you know, if it was some other time, I’d really like to get one of those milkshakes with you again.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” He seemed shocked, thick eyebrows raised. Claire thought his expression seemed almost comical.</p><p> </p><p>She laughed. “Yeah, it was fun.” Waving, she turned away, and exited through the costume cupboard to get out of the theatre. The heavy black door shut softly behind her, leaving the half-changeling alone. Eli's voice echoed behind him, shouting something about milk.</p><p> </p><p>Neither of them had noticed their Principal, who listened to their entire conversation from behind one of the many stage curtains. Strickler frowned. It was possible that his charge was growing a little <em> too </em> close to the Trollhunter.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>-------</p><p> </p><p>“You know, I probably could have done this on my own, if you wanted to go out with Lake.” Steve sat across from Claire on the floor, spellbook on his lap and a mason jar full of dirt by his side. In between them was a printed out map of arcadia, spread out on the floor. Without the tree sprawled out everywhere, Steve’s bedroom seemed a bit warmer, though a few scratches had damaged the drawings pinned on the walls, leaving blank spaces where they used to be hung up.</p><p> </p><p>Claire straightened out the map. “Nah, it’s okay. Besides, why would I miss out on you doing some awesome magic stuff?”</p><p> </p><p>Steve stared her dead in the eyes. “It’s a jar of dirt, Claire. This spell isn’t exactly pretty.”</p><p> </p><p>She shrugged. “Still magic though.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve flipped through a few pages of the spellbook Blinky had given him, until he got to the right page. From the corner of his eye, he watched his friend read over the lines of her script, one knee tucked into her chest.</p><p> </p><p>“You got some water in your bag?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, why?”</p><p>He pointed at the yellow page. From Claire’s view, she couldn’t read any of the words on it, and it became an inky scrawl of meaningless words. “Says here I need some for the spell, and I can’t be bothered to get some from the kitchen.” She rolled her eyes at him, but withdrew her blue water bottle from her bag anyway, passing it over to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Her ya go, Gandalf.”</p><p> </p><p>He started pouring it into the jar slowly, watching carefully until the water reached the lip of the jar.</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you need that anyway? Can’t you just do what you did last night with the whole controlling the branch thingy?” With a yellow highlighter, she coloured a line she'd missed out.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know, really. I think it’s because last night I was just using my power to control the tree - I was just drawing on my own energy, or whatever it is.” He gestured to the wet substance, and closed the lid of the jar. “But for this tracking spell I’ll need a different type of energy,”</p><p> </p><p>“Hence the dirt.” Claire finished. He nodded in agreement. “Couldn’t you just get your Dad to track your phone?”</p><p> </p><p>Steve shook his head vehemently. “Oh Hell no. He’d be pissed if he found out I was out with you past curfew. Do you know how hard it was to sneak back into my flat last night?”</p><p> </p><p>Claire giggled, remembering her own experience of attempting not to wake Enrique as she climbed in through his window. “I think I’m fine not knowing, thanks.”</p><p>From the closet, a faint squeaking could be heard, and Claire froze up, thinking it was a rat. Then she remembered the 'arrangement' Steve had going on with the gnome. It bashed around a little more, before going silent. "So, what's it like with a roommate?"</p><p> </p><p>Steve furrowed his brows in confusion, looking up from what he was reading. Golden light from the fairy lights above his bed made his hair seem an even deeper blond. "Rooma- <em>Oh,</em>" He nodded his head towards the closet. "You mean the Little Guy?"</p><p>She nodded.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, he's normally a bit more chatty, but...no offence - I don't think he likes you all that much." Steve whispered conspiratorially, so that the gnome wouldn't hear him.</p><p> </p><p>"Ah." She recalled her somewhat odd skirmish with him. Maybe she could try apologizing? Claire cleared her throat, and shuffled along the floor to get up close to the crack in the closet doors. "Uhmm, I'm sorry?"</p><p> </p><p>There came no reply, except for Steve snickering behind her.</p><p> </p><p>"S-sir?" She asked, placing one hand against the crack. Immediately, she felt a prick in her palm as the little devil poked a twig through, like a lance. "Ow!" Shaking her hand as if it would minimise the pain, she shuffled backwards until she was next to the map again.</p><p> </p><p>"Rude," She muttered.</p><p> </p><p>Steve picked up the jar and started to shake it, creating a gritty, muddy solution. Claire really hoped it wouldn’t break and splatter all over her. Steve sighed, after a full minute of roughly shaking it, and rubbed his hands together. “I'm not sure if my phone's even gonna work when I find it. One of those green buttsnacks probably took it and left it in a dumpster or something.”  His brown eyes fixated on the jar, as if it held the answers to all his dilemmas. Well, it only held the answer to locating his phone.</p><p> </p><p>Claire was glad her own phone had been safely nestled in her pocket at the time, and not stolen by some knockoff gremlin. “Wait, Steve.” She placed a hand on his knee, and her eyes looked far away, as if she was planning something. “What if they took it with them? We could track them with the phone, find their hideout, and then get rid of Arcadia’s goblin infestation!” Excitedly, Claire grinned at him, feeling the amulet buzz in her pocket.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure? We didn’t exactly stand a chance the last time we went up against them.” Steve's voice was uncertain, and Claire didn't miss the way he put the spellbook down on the floor a little too firmly.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll have the element of surprise this time! And besides, I don’t plan to actually fight them, just scope out where their little nest is.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. ( As in, to <em>suggest</em> that he should follow her plan. Not in the other way, you weirdo. )</p><p> </p><p>After a long moment of contemplation, Steve huffed, and threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. But you better have my back Nuñez! I don’t want to be goblin chow!”</p><p> </p><p>Claire nodded, and started to smooth out any wrinkles in the map. One of the corners had been bent and crumpled, probably from Steve nervously fiddling with it. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.” She spoke with deliberation, sounding serious and looking him in the eyes.</p><p> </p><p>He smiled back at her. “Alrighty, then, let’s start this.” He opened up the jar, letting out a damp and uncomfortable smell that blocked up their noses. With one hand, he held the jar up in the air, his wrist wobbling from the weight, and in the other, he used his thumb to keep the right page open. Slowly, like sand in a timer, the brown and black sludge was poured onto the map. Right in the centre.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Aneac liner dun.” </em>Clearly, and enunciating each letter, he spoke, watching as the solution on the map began to move and morph, worming across the paper but never spilling onto the carpet. Like it was searching for something, the mud raced around, until it stopped suddenly, releasing a hissing sound as it solidified. Cracking and dusty, it was as if all the moisture had been sucked out, leaving a hard, desert-like  rectangle of dried mud, covering the entire map except for on spot.</p><p> </p><p>Roughly a centimetre in diameter, the clean space on the map had one thing in its centre.</p><p> </p><p>“The <em> museum? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>--------</p><p>Jim swung his legs over the edge of Killahead Bridge, letting his blue toes swish in the air. Even though Claire hadn’t come with him, he still went to the diner, picking up one strawberry milkshake to go, which he was currently slurping up greedily. Moving pieces of the Bridge into place had been very tiring work, even in his stony form.</p><p> </p><p>Nomura, back in the human flesh sipped a cup of tea, sat with impeccable posture on a wooden crate. Jim figured it wouldn’t be long until she started playing her opera music. The sweet smell of Jasmine wafted up to him, though it smelt unappetising without a human nose.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” She put down her teacup, placing it with a sharp clink onto a pink saucer. “How is school? I heard from your Mother at our krav maga classes that you’ve elected to join the school play.” Jim thought she sounded almost proud.</p><p> </p><p>He put his now empty milkshake cup next to him, balancing it atop possibly the most powerful magical relic in the country. “Uh, yeah, it’s Shakespeare - Romeo and Juliet.” His voice seemed to sound a little prideful, lips tugging upwards around his teeth. “You gonna come watch me?”</p><p> </p><p>Nomura snorted. “Possibly. I might go with Barbura.”</p><p> </p><p>Jim grinned, his blue eyes lighting up a bit. “You should - I can tell she likes spending time with you.” He ran a hand over the edge of the bridge, feeling the individual specks of stone, bumpy and corroded from time.</p><p> </p><p>She waved him off. "Nonsense. She and I only see each other at krav maga - and the <em>occasional</em> coffee."  Standing up and brushing invisible dust from her lap, Nomura started packing up some things into her handbag that she'd left on the crate. Water bottle, hairbrush, crowbar and dagger, you know - just girly things. “Though watching you act out your little play with Barbura may be quite nice, I can’t stand Shakespeare - the man was an idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>Jim found it hard to tell when Nomura was joking about meeting famous historical figures, so he just rolled with it.</p><p> </p><p>Nomura’s phone began to ring in her pocket, and she shooed with her hands in Jim’s vague direction. “It’s Stricklander - you should be heading home now, anyway.” Her face turned stonier and stiff, even though she was in human form, probably from her distaste of their leader.</p><p> </p><p>Jim dropped to the floor with a loud thump, his rocky feet clicking across the tiles as he left the room. “Night Nomura, see you whenever!” He waved at her, stifling a laugh at how her eyes sparkled with distaste. Jim liked Strickler, sure, but he too could understand that the man had a certain...superiority complex.</p><p> </p><p>Finger hovering over the 'answer' button, she listened to him jog through the museum until he was out of earshot before accepting the call, answering it with a gruff voice. “Hello, Stricklander,” His name was practically hissed, the words echoing in the tall room. “What a pleasure for you to call.”</p><p> </p><p>Her voice could not possibly be dripping with more sarcasm than it already was.</p><p> </p><p><em>“Nomura. Likewise.”</em> There was a beat of silence as Strickler took in a deep breath. <em>“It has come to my attention that James has become...too involved with the Trollhunter - you know how kids are, Zelda. They’re naive. Stupid.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“Tell me something I don’t know, Stricklander. And besides, I thought you said it was a good idea for James to spy on her.”</p><p> </p><p>He grunted on the other end. <em>“Yes, well I overestimated his abilities to keep his personal and professional lives separate. We cannot allow for her to give him any rebellious ideas, for both his own sake and the order's. I believe that you are friends with Doctor Lake?”</em></p><p> </p><p>Nomura huffed. “Yes. What of it?”</p><p> </p><p><em>“I need you to get closer to her. Become better friends - date her, even, if it allows you to watch James more closely. Just make sure the child doesn’t make any reckless teenage mistakes. Put some sense into the boy.”</em> With that, he hung up the call, leaving Nomura with a dilemma.</p><p> </p><p>However, she didn’t have time to think on it, before a pained shout echoed to her from deeper within the museum.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jim’s shout. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Instantly, she was on alert, and got ready to look for him.</p><p> </p><p>--------</p><p> </p><p>“What if they eat my eyes, Claire?” Steve whispered harshly, swiping the museum’s entrance hall with his flashlight. He stared for a while at a shining suit of armour, half convinced it might come alive and attack him. It wouldn't even be the weirdest thing happening to him that week.  Getting in had been the easy part, due to the museum’s low security and Claire’s lock picking skills, but the eerie silence was beginning to get to him.</p><p> </p><p>Claire rolled her eyes, softly stepping around him. “Do you remember the plan?”</p><p> </p><p>Steve rolled his shoulders to loosen them up. “Of course. Find out if the goblins are here, scope out their den, and get the hell out.” She grinned at him and held out a fist, which Steve reciprocated. Oddly, it was the first time he’d ever fist-bumped a girl.</p><p> </p><p>Claire took in a deep breath, and shook her arms to try and loosen up.<em> Okay, here we go, </em></p><p>Still speaking clearly, she tried to lower her voice instead of shouting it like she usually did. “For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command!” In a flurry of light, the armour was donned, feeling almost familiar by this point. Its silver light reflected off of the marble floor like the two of them were in a dance hall, and not an empty museum hunting goblins.</p><p> </p><p>At night, without the chatter of other students, the old building became darker, and not just because the lights were out. It felt like they weren’t alone, as if around every corner someone might be waiting. Just breathing sounded too loud, as if they were interrupting the silence.</p><p> </p><p>“Couldn’t your spell have been a bit more specific about where your phone was? The museum’s huge and it’ll take the whole night to search it properly!” Claire harshly whispered at him, checking behind a small alcove in the wall in case his phone had been smuggled away in its shadowy corners.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah well I’m kinda new to the whole magic thing, okay?” Steve pointed his torch towards a glass case, his face turning sad as he remembered the conversation he had with Eli in the same spot. “I’d say we should split up, but I don’t think green magic is gonna work somewhere where everything’s…”</p><p> </p><p>“Dead or mummified?” Claire finished, turning her head around a corner into a darkened hallway on the left. It was so dark, that she didn’t recognise the moving shadows as an actual person for a few seconds. She’d completely overlooked the fact that a museum might have night guards.</p><p> </p><p>Grabbing Steve’s arm, she pulled him behind a display cabinet, her metal chest lifting up and down as she breathed in heavily. The young sorcerer seemed to sense her distress and hunkered down, clamping a hand over his own mouth to quieten his breathing. She dragged him down so that their bottoms sat on the floor and their knees were drawn tight to their chests. Steve put one palm on the ground to steady himself, shivering at the icy chill that pricked at his fingertips. Fumbling, he switched off the flashlight and dropped it on the ground.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, there was silence.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Clack...clack...clack...clack… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The both of them froze up, Steve’s shoulders tensing and Claire gripping his arm. It sounded like footsteps, but sharp and cold, as if they were wearing metal-plated soles. The footsteps got louder, and louder, until eventually they stopped. Maybe the night guard was about to turn around and head in another direction? Claire certainly hoped so.</p><p> </p><p>In a moment of bravery, the Trollhunter stood up, and peaked her head around the corner.</p><p> </p><p>She really shouldn’t have.</p><p> </p><p>He was at least a foot and a half taller than her, humanoid and with thick black hair that flicked up at the base of his neck. Blue eyes, bright and wide and almost glowing stared at her in shock, a mouth full of sharp teeth hung agape as he gawked at her. Like a mishmash of troll and human, horns curled back from his head, contrasting with long and un-trollish legs, unlike the thicker and stubbier limbs Claire had seen around Trollmarket. Oddly, instead of some form of leather loincloth, he had a normal black T-shirt on, with practical trousers held beneath a harness filled with wicked daggers.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe it was her Trollhunter instincts, or maybe it was just pure fear, but in that split second where neither of them moved, she made the choice to materialise her blade in front of her, swinging it upwards and slicing into the soft stone of his arm.</p><p> </p><p>A hint of a growl to his voice, he shouted in pain, a hissing smoke coming from his new wound. Amidst his confusion, she kicked him in the stomach, sending him falling onto the floor with a series of grunts.</p><p> </p><p>Claire stared in shock at the damage she’d done to the troll-thing, feet frozen to the spot. Dark, red liquid ran down the edge of Daylight until it reached the hilt, spilling over her gauntlets. Hitting someone, kicking someone, leaving bruises on their face was one thing...but drawing blood? She wasn’t ready for that kind of guilt, even if he was about to attack her.</p><p> </p><p>He took advantage of her confusion, grabbing firmly onto her thin ankle and dragging her, letting the armour crash to the ground. Dimly, she heard Steve scream from behind, confused and panicked. Wrestling, Trollhunter and troll grappled for the upper hand, slipping and struggling to maintain any sort of form on the shiny floor. </p><p> </p><p>With practiced movements, the troll began to raise his thick fist (probably with the intention of introducing it to Claire’s face) , but crumpled to the ground as a long, metal pipe was smashed into the back of his head, just below his horns. Steve let the offending instrument clatter to the ground next to his unconscious body, not wasting any time to start running away.</p><p> </p><p>Luckily, and with a great deal of swearing, Steve yanked her by the arm and dragged her away, taking them further down the dark corridor that the blue troll had come from. Dimly, Claire could hear Steve’s deep pants as he sprinted, hoping to find somewhere to hide the both of them. The tall ceilings arching over their heads seemed to mock them, dauntingly creating a large space where glass cabinets loomed and watched their every move.</p><p> </p><p>Whilst they had been running, Claire’s armour had removed itself, leaving them in almost complete darkness, until they reached a large room showcasing antique furniture. Creepy chairs and wardrobes were illuminated by the shine of the moon seeping through stained glass, the ages-old upholstery casting elongated shadows that curled at their feet. On the opposite wall to where they had entered the room, a dull grey curtain hung solemnly, as if hiding a new exhibit.</p><p> </p><p>With only a split-second to make a decision, they huddled behind a woven wooden screen, the type used by women in period pieces who would be dressed by their maids behind it.</p><p> </p><p>“Steve, I-I cut him.” Claire whispered, biting her lip to try and stop herself from hyperventilating. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, and the amulet, clutched in clammy hands, was shaking along with her weak wrists.</p><p> </p><p>Steve tried to calm her, speaking in a soft voice even though he was scared shitless. “Shhh, Claire, it’s okay, it’-”</p><p> </p><p>Shaking her head almost violently, she hiccuped, her voice turning strained and weak. “It’s not okay, Steve, it’s not okay, he could-could be,” Without much of a light source, he couldn’t see her facial expressions all that well, but it was obvious that she wasn’t smiling.</p><p> </p><p>He wrapped an arm over her shoulders, and twisted her head around so she had to look him in the eyes. “Claire we need to be quiet, okay?”  Her brown eyes, usually cold and steely were now blown wide, as if her mind were focusing on many different things at once. But she nodded fervently, leaning back against the screen and staying silent whilst a tear dribbled down her cheek.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Get it together Claire. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She took in some deep breaths and tried to think of something else. Anything else.</p><p> </p><p>There was a noise like the swooshing of a curtain, from behind them, probably the same grey curtain Steve had noticed when they first got to the room.</p><p> </p><p>Another troll? In his haste to take him and Claire away, he hadn’t gotten a very good look at what she’d attacked, but it definitely wasn’t human - not a goblin either though.</p><p> </p><p>The woven wood of the screen was bent and torn in places, allowing him to twist around and peek through to the other side, though it was at an angle that only allowed him to see a foot above the floor. Two black heels, with pale feet inside stepped out from the curtain, connected to a body he couldn’t see. At first, all he felt was a sense of relief at seeing another human, and then an onset of panic as he remembered that there were still...things, in the museum that could hurt her.</p><p> </p><p>He was just about to reveal himself and warn her, when a green, electrifying light sparked around her, dissipating and revealing cloven feet attached to rocky legs.</p><p> </p><p>Steve felt like throwing up from the sheer shock. <em>Did that woman just turn into a troll?</em></p><p> </p><p>Unable to look away, he kept his eye fixed on her, one of his hands wrapping around Claire’s wrist to ground himself. Eventually, the pink troll legs disappeared from sight as she walked past them, presumably heading down the same corridor as the blue one.</p><p> </p><p>Not willing to move, lest he make a noise that alerted her to their position, he froze, watching through the hole as the curtain swung back into place slowly, letting him get a glance at what looked to be a grey, stony bridge. He didn’t know why, but just that brief glance at it’s chiselled bricks released a feeling of dread into his stomach, the kind of dread and terror you feel right before you <em> know </em> something bad is going to happen.</p><p> </p><p>Taking in a deep breath, he risked peeking his head around the corner, glancing a look at the full body of the troll as it creeped down the corridor they’d come from. He could only see her back, a glistening pink surface half covered by silky black hair, and goat like legs, if they had been shaved of fur and thinned into a creepy limb. She walked tensely, two glowing scimitars drawn at her sides, her head looking side to side as she spied for anything out of the ordinary. A predator on the prowl, she confidently strode onwards, eventually disappearing from sight.</p><p> </p><p>From the dark silence, Claire’s voice spoke up, wobbly and shaky. “Steve?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“I-I think you need to look up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh shit.”</p><p> </p><p>Like fantastical bats covered in a green sludge, the goblins amassed on the ceiling, huddled together and sleeping in an upside-down den.</p><p> </p><p>-------</p><p> </p><p>Running as if they had Hell on their heels, the two teenagers sprinted as far as they could from the haunting museum, after climbing out of an unlocked window. The streets of Arcadia had looked empty and desolate, as if they’d sensed it would be best that they were unoccupied. Until they reached the street of Steve’s flat, they didn’t stop.</p><p> </p><p>Leaning against a lamppost, Claire panted, trying to catch her breath. “I’m so sorry, for panicking back there.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? No, Claire-”</p><p> </p><p>“I said I’d have your back, and I didn’t!” She stopped for a moment, running a hand through her hair. “Why did this stupid amulet pick me? <em> Me? </em> One little look at some blood and I was useless!”</p><p> </p><p>“Well maybe that’s exactly why it picked you!”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Evidently, Steve did not understand the meaning of a pep talk.</p><p> </p><p>“Claire, I don’t think it could have picked anyone braver. If I had been picked, I’d be running around like a headless chicken!”</p><p> </p><p>She laughed a little, at that.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course you got freaked - drawing blood from someone, even if they’re not human, is a pretty big deal. It’s natural for you to panic the first time it happens.”</p><p> </p><p>“You think so?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know, I used to think you were a dick, Steve.”</p><p> </p><p>“Gee, thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, to everyone else, you probably still are, but, you’re actually pretty good at the whole pep talk thing.”</p><p> </p><p>“So what, does this mean we’re friends?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m pretty sure we’ve been friends since you let me sleep at your flat when I was shrunk into an action figurine Trollhunter.” She told him satirically, smiling softly.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”  He had a dumbstruck look upon his face, and stopped on the pavement</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah...Sorry to say, but I think you’re stuck with me.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. “See you in the Forge tomorrow?”</p><p> </p><p>Claire groaned. “What? Oh, are you kidding me I have training tomorrow? That’s it I gotta go, Steve - need to get some beauty sleep.” She began running down the street, blending into the shadows.</p><p> </p><p>“You sure you’ll be okay?” Steve called after her, worried.</p><p> </p><p>“I have a magical suit of armour and a huge sword - I’ll be fine!”</p><p>--------</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Nomura was no stranger to bloodshed. She was centuries old, both a spectator and a warrior in many battles, human and troll.</p><p> </p><p>Little Gynt would be fine - a healing salve spread across the wound left only a thin grey scar in his stone, which she applied whilst he was still unconscious. Luckily, thanks to the fact that he had not shifted into a human form, the blow to the head had only caused some minor dizziness - nothing a few days of rest couldn’t fix.</p><p> </p><p>Nomura trained Gynt herself for years, learning every move and technique alongside him. And yet somehow, some girl with a suit of armour had been able to beat him after less than a month of training? There was only one answer. His teenage <em> crush </em> was stopping him from being able to fight the girl properly, blinded by feelings of naive attraction.</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, since her main priority had been to heal her charge, she hadn’t been able to go after the Trollhunter and rip the skin from her flesh as she’d liked. But that was no matter. She was a patient changeling, and she could wait a little while before going after the<em> weakling</em> hunter.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Am I slowly making Nomura and Strickler switch roles? </p><p>Yes.</p><p>I tried writing out dialogue between Strickler and Claire for future scenes but it just didn't flow very well, and with Nomura it just went so much better. </p><p>Since Claire is not very close to Strickler, I'm switching it up a bit so that Nomura is going to be Claire's main changeling adversary . Also, for my plot to work, they can't know any of the changeling's human identities yet. Just trust me here guys.</p><p>Alas, Steve's phone stays lost.</p><p>AND I HAVE REASONS FOR THEM NOT GETTING ARRESTED, it will be clear later on.</p><p>Have a happy Halloween and as always please leave a comment - have any questions please ask right away!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Win, Lose, or Draal, part one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I return, after like two months, and I bring chapters!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>"But you know, something about the troll you fought with felt...off.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire was sat in her bed, hot cocoa by her side, blanket over her shoulders, and massive trollish book in her lap. On speakerphone, Steve’s voice came from the phone on her bedside table. “Like </span>
  <em>
    <span>magically</span>
  </em>
  <span> off?” She inquired, taking a long, slurping sip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve sighed.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “I dunno. He just felt a bit weird, that’s all. Also, I think the lady I saw come out from the curtain turned into a troll.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He said, quite bluntly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I….don’t think they can do that, Steve.” She turned another page, using the images as her only clues since trollish was still incomprehensible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Claire, trust me! One moment her feet were human, and the next, she was a seven foot pink troll wielding these wicked glowy swords!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She placed her mug, now half emptied, on her bedside table.“...You really think trolls can do that? Like, they could be living among us? Did you see her face?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe. We should ask Blinky about it, I think. And if I saw her face, don’t you think I would have told you?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Steve pointed out sarcastically, and then went silent. There was a pause, like he didn’t know what to say, and then a huff of a laugh, like he’d thought of something funny. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Y’know...that troll-thing you fought was blue,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?” Claire asked with confusion, watching idly as a darkened tree branch swished outside her window, casting a silhouette on the face of the moon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“....Jim wears blue.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He mentioned conspiratorially.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighed, facepalming even though Steve couldn’t see. “Are you fucking serious?” She could tell by his voice that he wasn’t, but his joke was outlandish.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Woah, kiss your Mom with that mouth Nuñez?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut it, Steve.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He chuckled.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Oh, I see, you only kiss Lake with tha-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve!” Her face had turned a bright red, and she was more than happy that he couldn’t see it</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fine,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He paused before turning serious, and Claire </span>
  <em>
    <span>swore</span>
  </em>
  <span> she could hear his eyes rolling over the phone. </span>
  <em>
    <span> “Maybe the troll-lady was Miss Nomura?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pffft. As if. Miss Nomura’s so nice - If </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> a troll, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> one.” Claire took a sip of her cocoa, inspecting an illustration of a decapitated troll.  “Assuming the blue one can also change into a human, we should really watch out for him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah. I doubt he’s too happy about the, uh, scratch you gave him.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire let out a hollow laugh. “Actually, you know what - I’m more worried about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>immediate </span>
  </em>
  <span>trollish threat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh yeah...Draal.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He noted solemnly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep.” She flicked over another page in the massive book Blinky gave her. No matter what she did, the blue. Spiky troll was always at the forefront of her mind.  “Sorry, but I think that I should really get back to preparing for my inevitable doom.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah. See you tomorrow, Nuñez.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bye.” Claire was about to hang up, before she flipped over the page to an illustration of a menacing bridge. “Wait!” She shouted into the receiver.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What is it? Are you okay?” Steve asked, panicked and voice cracking as it went up a few octaves.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire’s words came out in a rushed conglomeration. “You remember the bridge Blink told us about - Killahead?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah…?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He faintly recalled it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Trollhunter took in a deep breath. “Let me switch to video.” Claire pointed the camera at the page in front of her. “This isn’t the bridge you saw in the museum, was it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She watched as a pixelated version of his face paled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh God this is bad, isn’t it?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-----</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you certain?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unquestionably, unequivocally certain?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For the last time - yes!” Steve jabbed at the drawing of the bridge. “This is definitely what I saw!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky and AAARRGH exchanged a dreadful look. AAARRGH huffed through his wet nostrils. “Could be different bridge?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire shook her head. “I’m trusting Steve on this one - this could be bad, like, mega freaking bad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were speaking in hushed voices, crowded around a table at the pub with the book open in front of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think we should be more worried about the troll-ish guys. I mean, how can someone just </span>
  <em>
    <span>change</span>
  </em>
  <span> like that?” Steve asked, leaning backwards so that a server in the pub could place a large tankard in front of AAARRGH. It thumped on the table, and splatters of green gloop slopped over the rim.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Og murr ma ga?” The giant asked Blinky, sounding a lot more fluent in trollish, though neither of the humans knew what he was saying. His husband slammed his drink down on the table after taking a long sip, and sheltered his mouth with a hand, as if hiding what he was saying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Klemark ogs murkos!” Blinky harshly whispered, six eyes looking around as if someone might be listening in. AAARRGH shrugged in response, and used one finger to shut the heavy book closed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop being so secretive!” Claire raised her voice at them, gripping the edge of the slab table. “What does that even </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Her eyes were painted with deep bags, containing a slightly crazed glint. Every now and then, the left eyelid twitched - evidently the Trollhunter had not slept very well the previous night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AAARRGH seemed to speak without thinking, in a casual voice. “Changeling.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Comically, Blinky spat out his green drink, spraying some onto Steve’s shoulder. The few trolls sitting near them immediately turned their heads to stare at them accusingly. Awkwardly, Blinky patted AAARRGH on the shoulder and spoke loudly in a stiff voice. “Ha! Yes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>funny old friend!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He turned to a nearby customer, whispering to her behind a hand. “Had a bit too much glug, I’m afraid.” The troll didn’t seem like she believed him, eyeing AAARRGH suspiciously, but turned back to her meal and ignored them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as everyone else glanced away, Blinky stared AAARRGH down with all six eyes, despite the fact he was a good few feet taller. “Not. Helping.” He hissed out</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whole face drooping, AAARRGH apologized, his green eyes going round and warm like a puppy dog’s. “Sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinky waited a bit longer, gesticulating for both Claire and Steve to sit closer, before speaking in a hushed and somber tone. “Changelings haven’t been talked about in quite some time I’m afraid. In the old world, Gumm Gumms stole our young, and-” He did one final glance all around to make sure no one else was listening. “-did something unnatural to </span>
  <em>
    <span>change</span>
  </em>
  <span> them. Their sole purpose ; to </span>
  <em>
    <span>spy</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the world above.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AAARRGH nodded, his eyes going glassy and distant as if he was revisiting a memory. He picked up the book and held it under his thick arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire pulled a disgusted face. “Change? How did they change a troll into a human?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N-nasty business.” AAARRGH rumbled out, gulping as if he’d swallowed something unpleasant. “Messy.” Green eyes didn’t meet anyone else’s, boring into the ground almost guiltily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire felt like it maybe wouldn’t be best to press further, and followed Blinky as he led them out of the pub. It would probably be best to continue their conversation somewhere more private. As he passed by the counter, he pulled out a few coins from his pouch and dropped them in a bartender’s outstretched hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “You see, it’s not that I don’t believe you or Steven,” He spoke to Claire, placing a hand on her shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Steve,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Steve muttered quietly, though Blinky paid him little attention.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In fact, I’m sure you fully believe that what Steven saw </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> the actual Killahead. However, it was dark, and you were both frightened, it wouldn’t be unusual for you to draw a hasty conclusion.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve, who had been walking behind Blinky and Claire, burst through between them, grabbing one of Blinky’s many arms. “Hey! I know I’m not exactly a book-brain like you, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what I saw!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“These are some very serious accusations, Steven. Going public about such a rumour could cause absolute mayhem!” Blinky argued back, raising his voice and causing a nearby family of trolls to turn towards them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire was about to point out that it would be better to know about the danger so that the citizens of Trollmarket could protect themselves, but was interrupted by Spiky Mc Daddy Issues blocking their exit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draal spread his arms out in a both menacing and welcoming gesture, the charms his leather bracelets dangling in the air. “Ah, if it isn’t the piece of flesh I’ll pound into...what is it you call those human snacks again?” He took a moment to think, before his eyes lit once more with a bloody excitement.  “Oh yes! Pancakes!” To further his point, he smashed his fist into his palm, as if already going through the motions of murdering the very girl standing in front of him. “I look forward to your pain, and will drink to your death!” Draal roared out, standing in the entrance so that they couldn't leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire tried to stand her ground, eyes going wide as she realised what he was saying. “D-death?” She spun around to look Blinky in the eyes, grabbing his shoulders with a vice-like grip. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Death?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No one had told her anything about death!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draal smirked, crossing his beefy arms across his chest. He feigned shock, as if he were worried about Claire’s health. “Oh? You didn’t know?” Patting Blinky on the shoulder, he laughed. “Good luck training this one, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blinkous.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Continuing to snigger, he pushed past AAARRGH, disappearing into the den of gleeful trolls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Purple light from gems reflected on Claire’s pale face, making her eyes look gaunter than they actually were. Steve felt like running up to Draal and punching him, but figured it would probably just mildly amuse the troll. Instead, he clenched his fists, taking in deep breaths to calm himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell, Blinky? I thought this was just a rematch!” Claire exclaimed, grabbing onto fistfulls of her own hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He frowned. “I thought you knew - to challenge a troll’s honour is to challenge them to the death! It’s all right there in chapter fifty eight of the book I lent you.” Blinky said, as if it were obvious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I haven’t gotten to that bit yet! Those books are freaking long!” She gestured to the literary tome in Arrgh hands in a spiteful jab of her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His face fell, and he exchanged a weary look with AAARRGH “Oh, Miss Claire.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is not on me, Strickler!” Nomura hissed, across the table outside Benoir’s café. “If anything, it is on</span>
  <em>
    <span> you </span>
  </em>
  <span>for not telling James your real plans!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the late afternoon, the café was mostly empty, just a few elderly couples chatting idly. The sky was dimming, and street lights were beginning to flicker on, casting shadows across the roads.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler’s eyes flashed in warning at her, shoulders straightening. “What I do or don’t tell my charge is irrelevant, Nomura. If Jim knew that the Janus Order wanted to kill Claire he’d do something rash - we both know this.” He told her in a steady voice, stirring a cube of brown sugar into his teacup. He was wearing a navy turtleneck, which on anyone else would have looked somewhat casual, but Nomura thought that even wearing a T-shirt he’d still carry that air of authority always surrounding him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nomura sighed. “I suppose.” Though she despised her boss, she knew he was right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cleared his throat, and spoke delicately, lifting up his teacup and sticking a pinky finger out as if he were the Queen of England. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>However</span>
  </em>
  <span>, your inability to stop the Trollhunter means that whilst you were healing Jim, she might have seen the Bridge - she might have even learnt your identity.” He pointed out in a patronising tone, waiting to see her reaction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, she held herself back from spitting in his face for the insult, keeping her composure. Slowly, she dipped an almond biscuit in her tea, bobbing it up and down and then taking a bite of it. “So what do you propose we do?” She asked in a lowered voice, just in case someone overheard, although she doubted the granny three tables away with her snoozing husband had super hearing.  “Can’t we just kill her and have it done with?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed, as if she were a petulant child, and rubbed a hand over his face. “These things are </span>
  <em>
    <span>delicate</span>
  </em>
  <span> matters, Nomura - I have my own plans on how to dispose of the child, at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>proper</span>
  </em>
  <span> time.” Brushing against their table, a waiter walked by, tall and pale with blue bangs. Nomura felt a chill go up her spine as he walked by, but brushed it off. Perhaps she was becoming paranoid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler waved at the waiter to come over. “May I please have the bill?” He asked politely, momentarily slipping into the persona of kindly elder gentleman, a sweet smile on his face. The waiter nodded, and headed inside with his notepad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strickler waited until the young man was out of sight before continuing his conversation, switching back into Janus-Order-Leader mode, face hard and stony. “I believe it would be best to bring in another changeling - it would be a shame to ignore the opportunity of the Nuñez family baby, after all.” He sipped the last remaining drops of his tea, and placed the cup on the saucer with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>clink</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nomura withheld a gasp of surprise. “You wish to switch Enrique Nuñez with a changeling? Have you gone mad, Stricklander? We cannot hide one of our own within the very house of the Trollhunter herself!” She hissed out in an angry whisper. Did Strickler not care for the safety of his brethren</span>
  <em>
    <span> at all?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He waved her away dismissively. “It’s already in motion Nomura - I was merely updating you on the situation.” Which really meant, ‘Your opinion means nothing to me.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-” She growled, but kept composure, hand gripping the fabric of her skirt angrily beneath the table. “I understand.” She forced out through gritted teeth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good.” He hummed in approval, before frowning in confusion, looking at the cafe with intrigue.  “Why did you ask us to meet </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, anyway?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I had Krav Maga with Barbara earlier this morning, and felt it would be reasonable to invite her for a date with me here. She’ll arrive in a few minutes, so I wouldn’t hang around.” Nomura mentioned, in a serious tone of voice, as if she were describing a mission, not a romantic outing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His lips quirked into a smile. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re doing as I asked. You will tell Doctor Lake I said hello, won’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claire, what’s up with you? You’re not usually this quiet.” Javier ran a hand through her greasy hair. Trollhunting, school, drama, and babysitting didn’t leave much time spare for showers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, Papí, Just tired.” Claire snuggled against Javier’s side, his arm hanging over her shoulder. Her Mom had gone out of town for a convention, and wouldn’t be back for an entire week. So, it was just the three of them at home in the evening - Enrique was in bed though, of course.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oddly, it was the most silent he’d ever been - not one single cry for the past two hours or so.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’d just finished an episode of Ghosts, the TV turned off, although Claire was perfectly happy just sitting there for a bit with a bowl of popcorn in her lap, him holding her close. Warm, grey blankets were wrapped around her whole body in layers, along with the soft white jumper knitted by her abuela that never seemed to wear down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A silent tear fell down her cheek, and she wiped it away before Javier saw it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d considered writing letters, but decided not to, in the end. She didn’t want her parents to think she committed </span>
  <em>
    <span>suicide</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That would break them - it was best if they thought she went missing, just as long as they never thought she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>chosen</span>
  </em>
  <span> to leave them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Javier kissed the top of her head, and started to stroke her hair. “You know, the last time the two of us just sat down and watched something together was </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span> ago.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire chuckled, and craned her head around so she could look him in the eye. “Really?” His brown eyes were a few shades darker than her own, a swirl of melted dark chocolate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughed with her, squeezing her tightly. “Yes - I remember, it was your twelfth birthday…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she listened to her Papí regale the tale of how her Mom cut herself with the cake cutting knife on her birthday, leading to them spending the day alone, she tried to sink into his arms, breathing in the smell that was uniquely </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Maybe if she hugged him tight enough, she would never have to let go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually the moment ended, and he told her to go to bed with a kiss on her forehead and a reminder to say ‘night’ to Enrique.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she entered his room, a windy chill blanketed her, goosebumps prickling along her skin. The window was open, curtain fluttering in the breeze, though Enrique seemed unaffected by it, fast asleep in his cot. His little chest rose up and down softly, little puffs of breaths exhaling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly, quiet enough so that she didn’t wake Enrique, she tiptoed across the room, closing the window with a swift click. Her Mom must’ve been really stressed out with work to forget closing Enrique’s window.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A smile was on her lips as she peered at her little brother, tucked away in a pile of blankets and plush toys. It seemed he was having a sweet dream, if the clumsy smirk on his features was anything to go by.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire wiped a stray tear from her eye. Maybe she should focus on the positive side of being killed by Draal - her parents would be able to spend more time with Enrique, if she wasn’t getting in the way. Bringing two fingers to her lips, she kissed them, and then lowered her hand inside the cot so that her kissed fingers could touch his forehead. He squirmed underneath her touch, turning his face away and pouting in his slumber.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Hermanito.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Closing the door softly behind herself, she headed into her own bedroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claire held her phone in her hands, messages app open to the group chat she shared with Mary and Darci. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she hadn’t talked to them in so long. In the icon photo was a picture of the three of them at a middle school dance, faces painted with bad makeup and hair messily braided with strands falling limply into their faces. Claire was in the middle, arms thrown around each of her friends as they smiled with tiny white teeth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fingers hovered over the keypad. What could she possibly type?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Hey guys, sorry I’ve been icing you out for a while and hanging out with our ex-school bully, but I was chosen to wield a magical amulet of daylight and protect a race of mythical creatures dwelling below our town. Also I’m probably gonna die tomorrow because I pissed off the last Trollhunter’s son. Actually, no, I’m definitely gonna die tomorrow.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, she switched the phone off and let it fall next to her on the mattress. If she died, they’d just have to make up some ludicrous rumour of what happened to her - they’d never guess the truth, anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Claire was leaning against the headboard of her bed, knees drawn to her chest and wearing her comfiest set of pyjamas. In front of her, a Trollish book laid open, but she didn’t have the energy to try and read it. Fairy lights strung above her bed gave a warm ambience, just bright enough to allow her to make out the images in the latest book Blinky had lent her. Hopelessly, she flicked the pages, a bored expression on her face. Her last night on Earth, and there she was, gazing at paragraphs of words she couldn’t even understand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a brief moment, she considered calling Jim, but dismissed the thought. She didn’t want to drag him down into her problems.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holding the Amulet in her hand, her fingers wrapped around it painfully tight, knuckles whitening. Its blue, pulsating glow seemed to be trying to communicate with her, growing warm in an attempt at comfort.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why’d you pick me, huh?” It stayed annoyingly silent. “At what point did you think, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Oh yeah, Claire Nuñez, she’s definitely equipped to be a freaking troll knight!’</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She hissed out sarcastically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was about to throw it across the room with the rage she felt bubbling up in her chest, before she noticed what its light was doing to the book in front of her. Where its silvery light shone, the Trollish letters morphed and twisted, slipping into English.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woah…” Claire angled it so that the whole page was translated, finally readable. She began reading aloud through a passage next to a diagram of a troll with crystalline spikes similar to Draal’s. “Identifying your enemy’s weaknesses and strengths…”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<span>She grimaced, and took in a devoted breath, shoulders squaring. Eyes focused on the pages with an almost violent intent, like she was going to rip the words to shreds as she read them. “Damn, this is gonna be a</span>
  <em>
    <span> long</span>
  </em>
  <span> night of cramming,”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Is the scene with Claire and her Dad happening at the same time that Enrique is being swapped?</p><p>Yes. Yes it is. Because I’m evil like that.</p><p>Also, I’m so sorry for taking such a long time to post a chapter! Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed it. As always, feel free to ask any questions!!! I love them!!!</p><p>PLEASE, COMMENT, or at least leave kudos, (cause if u just read all 78000 words of this story without leaving me some form of thanks, then that’s just impolite, you buttsnack)</p><p>Im definetely still continuing this story, but I have exams in January so the next update probably won't  be until after that</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Win, Lose, or Draal, part two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Gathered Trollkind!” Vendel’s voice boomed across the Forge, arms spread out wide as the stands, filled to the brim, watched him speak with excitement. “The Trollhunter has laid a challenge before the son of her predecessor, and you shall all bare witness to the ensuing battle!” A huge cheer roared to life, trolls thrusting their fists in the air and singing for bloodshed. “Which shall be one for the ages!” He threw his hands up in the air, and looked down towards the warrior’s entrance, where the Trollhunter was standing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire could swear his eyes met her, if only for the briefest of seconds.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her, Steve, Blinky, and AAARRGH were crowded in a small side room of the Forge, like an alcove for someone to wait before they entered the battle. All the way on the opposite side of the arena was an identical opening, where Draal was pacing, huffing and flexing his fists opened and closed, as if imagining breaking Claire’s neck in them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There were wooden spikes suspended above the entrance to their alcove, which Claire assumed could fall down like a grate, stopping someone from running out of the Forge and interrupting a fight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She had yet to don her armour, standing on shaking feet in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, running trainers tied in double-bows. Her hair was secured in a tight bun, so there was no chance of it falling in her face mid-battle, though it pulled almost painfully on her scalp. Maybe, if she survived, she’d consider cutting it short.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Blinky and AAARRGH spoke in a hushed tone behind them, the former gesticulating wildly with all four of his hands. Steve walked up to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder, startling Claire from where she’d been staring at the stands of roaring trolls with glazed eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.” When she looked up at him, she saw his face was just as stressed as her own, pale and clammy. “Claire, I-I’m sorry.” He rushed out in a quiet voice, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just, I was such a dick to you before all this-” He gestured at the magical world around them “-so, uh, thanks for not giving up on me, I-I guess.” Along with his confession, a green blush was beginning to spread on his face from embarrassment. She didn’t comment on it’s weird verdant hue.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Steve.” Claire sent a smile his way, though her insides still felt like they wanted to chuck themselves from her mouth in a hurl of anxious bile. Paper crumpled in her fingers, and she loosened how tightly her hands were clenched. The letter clutched in her hand felt heavier than it should, given that it was made out of such a lightweight material. She handed it to him, and he took it with a confused expression.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What is </span>
  <em>
    <span>this?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Looking the blue envelope over, he read his own name, which was written in a neat black cursive.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire downcast her eyes, staring at the ground intensly. “It’s a letter which says all the things I want to tell you if I….Don’t make it out of this one.” Without looking at him, she heard the sharp intake of his breath.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His voice was wobbly, uncertain, and he tried to give it back to her, pushing it into her palm. “Claire, I can’t-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” One of her hands raised in the air in a sign of ‘stop’. “ Just, don’t open it until the fight is over, okay?” Steve was the only one she could leave a message to. The only one who would read what she had written and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>assume that she was crazy. Claire didn’t look up, not wanting to see his pitying face, though from the corner of her eye his whole body slumped, like his energy had been siphoned off</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-” He sighed in defeat, shoulders falling. “Okay.” Arms hung limply at his sides, letter tightly gripped in his large hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sounds of applause diminished, and Vendel began speaking again in his loud, governing voice. “Draal, son of Kanjigar, son of Tarrigar, Draal the Destroyer, come forth!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draal grinned crudely, and leaped up into the air, twisting in a ball and rolling around the arena like a cannonball. Claire’s eyes widened at the show of agility and brute force, wherever he rolled his crystals picked up dust and sent it into the air, like the tyres of an extremely fast car. He somehow pulled himself into the air, flying a good ten metres upwards before falling back onto the ground and punching the ground with a fist.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve could obviously sense her surprise at how he moved, the troll both strong and dexterous, and placed a solid hand on her shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draal roared, savage and bestial, sharp teeth glinting in an open maw. Like a gorilla, he beat his chest, revelling in the cheers from the audience up above. He hadn’t even brought a weapon with him - evidently, his fists would be enough to pound Claire into ‘pancakes’, as he had so eloquently phrased it the day before.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>AAARRGH clapped Claire on the shoulder, spinning her away from Draal’s boasts of strength and towards Blinky’s serious face. “Miss Claire, it is now the time to put everything I’ve ever said to you to practice! With a little luck, he’ll trip and fall.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire was slightly offended in his lack of faith in her, but she understood.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His voice was rushed, knowing that he had such little time left to give her some advice before she would have to step forward and fight. “Now, rule one?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire didn’t have time to go through each rule slowly with her mentor, and rattled them off swiftly. “Always be afraid, Always finish the fight, and When in doubt, kick them in the gronk-nuks.” She smiled at him sadly. “Don’t worry, Blink - I got this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He folded his hands together in front of himself, and raised his chin, beaming at her proudly. “Of course you do, Miss Claire.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Beat Draal, means good Trollhunter,” AAARRGH rumbled affectionately, verdant pools focusing on her with a soft intensity. She figured it was the closest to a pep talk she’d get from the two trolls.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Taking in a deep breath, Claire straightened herself up and stood in the entrance, ready to walk forwards when Vendel called for her. Beating up against her ribcage, it seemed her heart wanted to break free, splitting out of her chest in an explosion of gore and broken bone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve held her wrist loosely, his palm sticky and sweaty on her skin. “Don’t get dead, Claire, okay?” He whispered harshly, also staring at the still parading blue troll.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry Steve, if I’m not here you can go back to playing football after school, live a</span>
  <em>
    <span> normal </span>
  </em>
  <span>life.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Football?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I quit the football team like a week ago!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, cause I realised that you’re pretty much the only real, proper friend I have. So don’t die Claire, okay? Cause I have magic on my side and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can and will</span>
  </em>
  <span> find a way to resurrect you!” He shoved a finger in her face, like a teacher scolding a bad student. Claire smiled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clearing his throat, Blinky softly disagreed. “Uh, actually, Steven, I don’t think that’s quite possi-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shot out a hand to stop him. “Blinky, all due respect, but not a good time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The four armed troll nodded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t get dead, Steve.” She took a deep breath. Claire couldn’t die - she still had so much left to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so much left to</span>
  <em>
    <span> see</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The Amulet was cold in her fingers, and flowed over her body without a command, covering her in ethereal protection. “I’m gonna kick that blue ignoramus’s ass!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span>, is the spirit, Miss Claire!” Blinky declared with a fist pumping into the air, standing next to AAARRGH, who nodded at her silently, though he didn’t know what the word ‘ignoramus’ meant.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Vendel’s booming voice ruined the moment. “And now, Draal’s combatant, Claire Nuñez, daughter of Javier and Ophelia Nuñez!” Sparing one last glance at her friends, she stepped into the light of the Forge, walking towards Draal with purpose and intent. With each step, she began to regret her choice to fight him. “Come forth, human Trollhunter!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Behind her, she could hear Blinky shouting, stuck behind the wooden grate that separated them from the arena. “Fight with your </span>
  <em>
    <span>intellect</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Miss Claire - it is more passionate and intricate than you know!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire didn’t think her intellect was quite as passionate as Draal’s mission to obliterate her from existence, but it was a nice sentiment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Prepare for battle!” Vendel shouted over the cheering of the stands, causing Draal to give out another snarl, banging both of his fists upon the ground.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Daylight was summoned to her grasp, familiar and warm, as if it were telling her that she could do it. Either that or her nerves had become so frazzled that she imagined the sword was trying to communicate with her. Vertically she held it, at a slight angle so that it was tipped forwards by a little. With the blade in her hands, looking Draal in his murderous eyes, she thought, for a fleeting moment, that it would be simple - maybe she could take the asshole down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then the Forge started </span>
  <em>
    <span>moving.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The floor beneath her twisted and rose off the ground, Earth shaking and raining dust as the mechanisations of the place seemed to come to life. Different areas rose to different heights, with the clanking and turning of cogs underneath the stone platforms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Claire thought as she kept rising, eventually coming to a stop at a height double that of her house. It came to a stop with a shudder, and that was when Draal chose to attack.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With a snarl, he launched himself at her through the air, and all of her training went out the window faster than a thief in the night. Rolling away, she landed on a lower platform, falling at a weird angle onto her back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t have time to react to the pain, already dodging as his fists tried to squish her unarmoured head. Clumsily, Claire swiped her sword at him, but it was too soft a blow, clanging the flat side against his knuckles. Again, he reached for her head, but she rolled backwards to get away, mindful that she didn’t fall off the ledge. Without any time to get off her back, Draal towered above her, lags stood on either side of her feet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His lips pulled back over multitudes of sharp teeth, ready to pull and rip at flesh, growling as he pulled back his arm a-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“AAAAAAGGGHHH!!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He screamed in shock and agony, Claire’s foot connecting firmly with his gronk-nuks. He fell to his knees with a whimper, hands coming to cover the sensitive spot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Not wasting any time, she rose to her feet and surveyed where to go, choosing to jump onto a moving platform around a metre below, one of her feet almost twisting, but she ignored it.. The crowd’s cheers echoed around her, almost disorienting with how</span>
  <em>
    <span> freaking loud</span>
  </em>
  <span> trolls could be when they wanted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next time Draal went for her, she wasn’t quick enough to move out of the way. He went for a different approach than he had the last time, swiftly swooping down to her level end grabbing her legs, pulling her up into the air like a ragdoll. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Daylight clattered from her hands, falling far, far, far down below as she was spun around by Draal and then gleefully flung across the Forge. She slammed into the wall, bounced off it, dropped to the floor, and almost rolled into the hole in the centre of all the cogs. Eyes widening, she pushed herself away from the gap weakly, and looked fervently around, finally spotting Draal on a rising platform.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Panting, Claire watched as he pumped his fists in the air, cheering himself on for his victory.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fight’s not over yet, Buttsnack… </span>
  </em>
  <span>She thought, wiping a trickle of blood that fell from her nose, which only smeared it across her face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire picked up Daylight from the ground, holding it out in front of her as she positioned herself in a low stance. Draal was all brute strength and speed - the only thing she had on her side was agility and dexterity. Although she had also come to the conclusion that she was probably smarter than Draal - he didn’t seem like the sharpest troll in the shed from any of their past interactions.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Last night, in the book, she had read about how certain trolls, if large enough, have a blind spot behind them that potential enemies could hide in. All she had to do was get into that blind spot, wait for Draal to let his guard down, and stab him, quite literally, in the back. Killing someone, whether troll or human wasn’t exactly something she would look forward to, after all, just one cut on that changeling had turned her into a crying mess, but this was life or death.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her</span>
  </em>
  <span> life, </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>death.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He began to do that spinning move again, curling into a ball and rolling over the walls in an act that was both impressive and defying the laws of gravity. Barrelling towards her, Claire acted on instinct and chucked her sword overhead, the blade spinning over and over before striking the target. Daylight embedded itself in the ground in front of Draal, tripping him over with a yelp so that he fell on his front, kicking up a cloud of dust. His face was pressed into the unforgiving ground, nose ring painfully shoved up his nose. Draal snarled, golden eyes swimming with hate, and Claire materialised Daylight back in her hand before lobbing it at him once more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span> Shling, shling, shling</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it sounded as it spun through the air, but was unfortunately swatted away by Draal with ease.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Holding out her hand, Claire waited for it to reappear, acutely aware of the troll heading in her direction, but it refused to return to her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>come on!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She shouted, sprinting away as fast as her legs could carry her once she realised there was no way of fighting him with her bare hands.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a few moments, it was just Claire, and the rises and falls of her chest as she ran out of air, attempting to escape him. Rolling across the wall again, he used his elevation to jump above her, not giving her enough time to move out of the way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brown eyes widened, watching the fist only a metre away from her face, directly above her and with decreasing altitude.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, this is it, then.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draal roared in victory.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so sorry, Enrique.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She closed her eyes, and crumpled to the ground, covering her head with her arms as if that would do anything to protect her from such a strong force.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire felt the blow against her, felt the force and brute strength behind it, but it was as if it bounced off of her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When she cracked her eyes open, she saw blue crackling light flaring around her like a shield made by the armour. Draal’s body was flung high up in the air, almost crashing into a four-armed statue of one of the past Trollhunters.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A huge cheer erupted from the arena, trolls leaning out of the stands to roar in triumph and entertainment. Picking herself up from the rough floor, Claire came to a wobbling stance, limbs like jelly. With a crash, Draal dropped onto the ground, sending a few small loose rocks scattering.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a few seconds, he lay immobile on his back, and Claire felt a surge of relief at the realisation that he had been knocked unconscious.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then, he picked himself back up, shaking his head to get rid of the residue dizziness. Evidently</span>
  <em>
    <span> not</span>
  </em>
  <span> unconscious.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, like Claire’s life was just getting worse and worse, the huge blades from the sides of the Forge swung into action, going forth and back, cutting through the air rhythmically. She could almost make out her own fearful reflection in the blade a few metres away from her, since its surface was so sharpened and shiny. These weapons did not seem to deter Draal in the slightest, and he once again bolted towards her, on foot though, this time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire didn’t waste a second, sprinting in the opposite direction around the circular Forge, dodging the blades or ducking under them. Blinky’s training was coming in handy, after all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t run forever, her body was on the brink of shutting down, and all the noise from the stands was beginning to create a wave of dizziness pounding upon the shore of her mind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As the nearest blade swooped down, Claire hid behind it, and waited until Draal jumped over it, landing in front of her with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump</span>
  </em>
  <span> that shook the ground and threatened to tip her over. His back was turned on her. Blue crystalline spikes pointed at her face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This is my chance,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she told herself, and snuck forwards so that she was directly behind Draal, concealed in his blind spot. The trolls watching them went silent, or at least to a rumbling quiet, watching with interest at what the human Trollhunter would do next.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire’s breaths were light and shallow, controlled so that Draal wouldn’t hear them. Feet tiptoed across the ground, keeping up with his turns and twists as he passionately scanned the Forge for where she was hiding, unaware of her actual proximity. He snarled in annoyance, voice booming gruffly as he pounded upon his own chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Reveal yourself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>coward!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire eyed the blade which retreated into the slit of the wall, and then swung back down again. It was a bit like an axe, kicking upwards in a brutal arc. She listened to the ringing sound it made as it sliced through the air, memorising the time. Maybe, she wouldn’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to stab Draal in the back, if she could dispose of him in another way. Not to mention Daylight still wasn’t returning to her hands.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Where was that damned sword? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sometimes, Claire swore it had a life of its own.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As silent as one could be whilst wearing a suit of armour, Claire crept backwards, aligning herself with the blade as it slid back in the wall. Each time the mechanism pushed it out of the slot, it made a tiny, almost inaudible clicking sound that was dulled by the stone walls.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll kill you,</span>
  <em>
    <span> Fleshbag!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He growled, beyond furious at the game she played. A few trolls in the audience sniggered, though none called out to help him. Apparently trolls were more inclined towards watching Draal struggle than supporting him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The blade had been withdrawn into the wall for a few seconds now, and Claire knew it would soon swing back out again. “You will </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> be the one to kill me, Draal!” Claire shouted back to get his attention, panting and stood weakly in front of the blade, shoulders slumped in weariness, though her brown eyes were perfectly clear. His gaze focused on her, finally spotting his prey, and irises blazed viciously.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Click.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire rolled to the side instantly, if not a little rough, just as the blade reappeared with a vengeance, its tip booting Draal so far that when he tumbled to the ground, he rolled right off the edge of the Forge, one blue hand gripping on for dear life.The rest of his body hung over an abyss leading to what Blinky had once described as an ‘endless’ pit. One slip, and he would free-fall down a cavern so deep no troll could even see the bottom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With a roar, he tried to pull himself up, yet was too bruised by his fall to muster up enough strength.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The crowds gasped, jaws dropping and going silent. Obviously, they had never expected her to win. The Trollhunter paid them no mind, stalking towards her opponent with a bit of a limp, but with her head held high, momentarily making eye contact with Vendel, high up in the stands. It seemed that a small smile quirked on his lips, though maybe she was imagining that in her daze.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As she got to the edge which he grappled for purchase at, she was faced with a dilemma.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire did not want to</span>
  <em>
    <span> kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> Draal. It would be so easy, too - one kick at his hand and he’d be sent flying </span>
  <em>
    <span>down, down , down.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was snarling at her, growling and baring his teeth, but too tired to pull himself up. Golden eyes looked as though they were on the brink of tears - it was the first time she had ever seen a troll cry, the wetness dripping down stone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t mad at her, not really. All Claire could see was a lost little boy who wanted his Father back. Yeah, maybe trying to kill an innocent human girl wasn’t the best way to deal with that pain, but in all fairness, she had been the one to (Unknowingly) challenge him to a fight to the death.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>Without even calling for it,</span> <span>Daylight appeared in her right hand, familiar and heavy. She heaved it above her head, and watched as Draal’s eyes closed, welcoming death at the blade of his Father’s old sword.</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cracks spiderwebbed from the ground where Claire stabbed it down, using the handle as an anchor so that she could extend a hand to Draal.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The stands gasped in outrage, and began hurling insults immediately when the sword did not end up embedded in his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes fluttered open, and he stared at her, confused. Claire opened her left palm, unfurling her fingers towards him. “It’s kinda rude not to take my hand, you know.” She told him, really hoping he didn’t take the opportunity to bite off her digits - she was rather fond of them, after all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a while, he just stared at her, part angry, part confused, part tired. After a moment of consideration, he slowly took her offer, and allowed her help in heaving him back onto the ground, causing Claire to fall over onto her buttocks. As soon as Draal managed to right himself on his short feet, a rock was thrown from the stands, hitting him squarely in the face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire thought he would be angry, but he  barely even flinched, looking at the rock depressingly as it bounced off and clattered to the floor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That fight...it was meant to be to the death.” Draal told her in a quiet, level voice, towering above her, though he felt smaller, eyes drooping to the floor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” Claire managed to wheeze out, picking herself up off the floor with the sliding and clicking of armoured plates.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wordlessly, he turned away, back hunched as he stumbled towards the exit, mentally and physically fatigued. The residents of Trollmarket throwing and hurling trash at him certainly didn’t make matters any better.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cans, scrap metal, bricks, bottles, wood, even a gnome or two were chucked into the arena, in a humiliating fashion upon Draal, his back getting smaller and smaller as he retreated further away, eventually leaving the Forge entirely. Even then, the booing didn’t stop.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Taking in a deep breath, Claire pulled her sword from the stone, holding it loosely at her side. She was rather sick of how some of the trolls disrespected her, and now she was just plain pissed at the way they treated one of their own kind, presumably just for losing a fight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, everyone!” At the sound of the Trollhunters furious voice, they went silent, except for a few murmurs. Hundreds of eyes flicked towards her intently. Vendel, high, high up above, turned around and left, disappearing from her view. Wasn’t he going to stand up for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Draal?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice was hoarse, but she drew it out of her mouth, pushing it through the air so that all could hear.  “Draal fought with honour! Don’t disrespect him like that! If you treat one of your own citizens like that, how on Earth are you supposed to fight against Gunmar?” A collective gasp went around the arena, though Claire kept going, pointing Daylight at the audience. “How will you defend</span>
  <em>
    <span> each other</span>
  </em>
  <span> when changelings-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Claire!” Blinky called, running towards her on his stubby legs across the Forge, AAARRGH and Steve in tow.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Not another word!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He shouted, six eyes wide in shock.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Already, the stands were in uproar, shouting in a frenzy of panicked voices.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Blinky yanked her by the arm and all but dragged her out the Forge at a hurried pace, the same way Draal had left. They went along an empty walkway, high above a lake of lava she was beginning to get familiar with.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire ripped her arm away from him, coming to a stop. The sounds of the Forge were distant, but still audible. “What the hell, Blinky? If there’s a changeling threat, then they deserve to know!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Blinky sighed, and spoke softly. “Ours is an ancient race, Miss Claire - we will tell them, </span>
  <em>
    <span>someday</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the future, but certainly, not now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>AAARRGH rumbled behind them. “Cause chaos.” He muttered in agreement, leading them onto an almost empty street in Trollmarket, the sounds of the forge getting quieter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve fell into step next to her, just as she dismissed the armour and got rid of all her cricks and kinks, joints cracking. His face was pale and gaunt, probably from watching his friend almost die like twenty times.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ooh,</span>
  </em>
  <span> that’s not a nice sound.” He flinched, wincing at the grotesque pops her body made.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire chuckled, high on adrenaline. “Hey, you try battling a troll and coming away unscathed!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He raised his hands in surrender. “Fair enough, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a beat of silence, neither of them knowing what to say, and Steve scratched the back of his neck idly, passing under a multicolored, glowing gem.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I read the letter.” He blurted, sort of hushed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire stopped in her tracks, just as the armour dismissed itself in a puff of silver mist. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I told you to only read it if I died!” Stopping in front of him, she punched him in the shoulder lightly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ow!” He rubbed the spot, pouting. “I know, okay, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t stop myself!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire groaned, and face planted into her hand. She wasn’t just avoiding eye contact with Steve for the purpose of lessening the embarrassment from the things she’d written to him, but also because he was a great deal taller than her and it hurt to crane her neck upwards. Instead she focused on the cobbled floor, and plodded on ahead after their troll friends.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve fell into step with her, the words coming out of his mouth quiet and unsure - the last few years he’d only really insulted people, and it was foreign to be saying a compliment. “You said you were proud of me. And I just wanted to say, I’m proud of you too, Claire.” With a rough arm he pulled her in for a hug, tucking her head underneath his chin suddenly. “You’re a pretty fucking good Trollhunter.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire didn’t mention how he’d recently started calling her by her first name instead of Nuñez. She just leaned in, and wrapped her arms around his waist. The sounds of Troll stores bartering became dim, and she focused a full minute on just remembering how to breath, grounding herself to Steve’s body and the rocky floor beneath her feet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They were interrupted, however, by the Elder blocking their path. Vendel’s white eyes intensely peered at Claire, boring into her head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Blinkous, AAARRGH. A word.” He hissed out, gripping his orange staff in a vice-like grip. Vendel looked thoroughly pissed, lips curled, and silently retreated down a nearby street, expecting them to follow him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Blinky grimaced, and walked over to the now separated Steve and Claire. He had a resigned look about his face, as if he knew what was going to be entailed in their chat with Vendel. However, he put on a kind smile for the battle’s victor.  “Claire, I am very proud of the way you fought today. I hope with more training, you will only improve under my tutelage.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She smirked, and nodded, leaning against Steve for support. “Of course, Blink.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before he followed Vendel, the four armed troll nodded at Steve. “And I’d like to see you tomorrow, Steven, if that’s all right with you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve was a bit too worn out to do anything but agree, though he didn’t know why Blinky would want to see him. Probably a magic thing. He hoped.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>AAARRGH gave her a soft pat on the head. “Good fight,” He congratulated the Trollhunter, before being led away by his partner to follow Vendel. The two humans were left alone in the market street, tired, weary, and in sore need of a nap. If they stayed there any longer and were found by spectators of the match, they would no doubt be bombarded by questions.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Home?” Claire asked breathlessly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He swung an arm over her skinny shoulders, nodding. “Home.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Steve,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t really know what to write, in all honesty.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Um, thanks? I guess? For being the one person keeping me sane in this crazy troll world. I don’t know why you even stick with me - I can tell you’re scared, you know. So thanks for not leaving me alone.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I know we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, and before the whole Trollhunter thing we never even really spoke except for your bad attempts at flirting, but you’ve really changed since we started hanging out.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m proud of you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So if I die, don’t fall back into old habits, and try making some new friends - maybe talk to Eli a little more. Just don’t isolate yourself from everyone else because you feel lonely. Cause if you don’t reach out to anyone, then you’ll truly be all alone. And I don’t want that to happen to you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Also, look out for Enrique for me, okay? Without his big sister he’s going to need someone to stop my Mom driving him insane.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p> </p>
<ul>
<li><em><span>Claire.</span></em></li>
</ul>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Trollhunter felt as though she could drop dead on her feet, if she didn’t get to bed soon enough.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was late, later than she usually got home, and she hoped her Papí wouldn’t question it. Creaking, she edged the door open and shut it quietly behind her, the lock clicking into place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Claire? Is that you princess?” Javier called from the kitchen in a jovial voice. There was the ringing of a teacup being placed on a saucer, and the squeak of a stool that he sat on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She was really hoping she’d just be able to go straight to bed, but when had Claire’s luck ever worked out before?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Taking in a deep breath, Claire forced on a smile, and pattered into the kitchen. “Yeah, Papí, sorry I got home a bit late, but rehearsals went on a</span>
  <em>
    <span> lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> longer than I thought they would-” She stopped in the entrance to the kitchen, spotting Javier sitting across from a small, thin woman with sharp green eyes.  “Ms. Nomura?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The museum curator waved at her in a way that seemed almost threatening, however that was possible. Her smile was as sharp as a knife. “Hello, Claire. I just thought I’d come over to see how your Mother’s doing - I had no idea she’d be away on business,” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ms. Nomura pulled up the corners of her mouth slyly, and stared right in Claire’s eyes intensely over the rim of her mug. The way she sat on the stool was upright and straight, almost mechanically perfect as if at any moment she might get up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before Claire could shudder under the weird glare pinned on her by the museum curator, Javier gestured at his daughter to come over. He was relaxed on his stool beside the island, familiarly warm-looking in a fuzzy grey sweater, the goatee hair slightly wiry and in need of a trim. Reading glasses were crookedly perched on his nose, almost slipping off. “Yes, come sit down Claire, try some of this tea Ms Nomura brought for us!” He took a long, deep sip from a teacup, tasting sweet, fruity tones. Enrique wasn’t anywhere in the room, so he had probably been put to bed already.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She wiped her hand over her face, pulling it down in a tired expression. When she spoke, it was warbled by a yawn. “Actually Papí, I‘m really tired, I think I’ll just head up to bed, if that’s okay-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Crash!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Javier’s teacup fell from his hand, clattering to the floor into tens of shards. Limply, eyes rolling to the back of his head, he slipped unconscious, face using his saucer as a harsh pillow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Papí!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Claire screamed, running over to where he was sat at the island and checked to see if he was alright. She shook his shoulders, breath rapidly increasing as his only reaction was shallow huffs of air. He was completely unconscious.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Beneath her feet, ceramic shards cracked, slick with the spilt tea.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision, and she heard Ms. Nomura’s stool scrape backwards on the kitchen tiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“M-Ms. Nomura, I think we need to get him to the hospital!” At this point, Claire was debating whether a slap to the face might rouse Javier, whose eyes woozily fluttered closed</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The woman sighed condescendingly, placing her teacup onto the saucer with a</span>
  <em>
    <span> clink</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “He’ll wake up eventually, don’t worry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“W-what? How could you know-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire’s eyes widened. She took a faltering step back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nomura was grinning, eyes beginning to glow an eerie yellow in the sclera, and cracked her neck from side to side with a series of grotesque </span>
  <em>
    <span>pops</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She chuckled, casually strolling around the island to get closer to Claire.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Trollhunter was backed into the corner of her kitchen, right next to the toaster and a line of hooks holding pans. She didn’t miss how the knife block was empty, noting that with a horrid lump in her throat. Her back bumped into the sharp handle of a cabinet, pressing against her spine.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course! Steve had been right when he suggested Nomura could be the changeling he saw in the museum - why did Claire dismiss him like that?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire didn’t even have time to summon the amulet - The changeling advancing upon her began to - well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>change</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Green and yellow light flickered around her form like silent lightning, so bright and intense that it temporarily blinded Claire, and when the spots disappeared from her vision, there was a towering pink troll hulking a few feet away, a twisted smile showcasing razor sharp teeth. Each of her limbs were long, thin, and sharp, as if any one of them could be used as a weapon to rip through someone’s chest, sharp clawed fingers easily dexterous enough to reach into the organisation of organs and plunge upon a heart. Black hair fell as a collected mass down her back, mussed only by a set of small horns and long pointed ears. Unlike any other troll that Claire had seen before, she had goat hooves, small dark grey things which were no doubt great for leaping towards enemies and tearing their throats.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped herself, and in her panic forgot about the amulet, reaching for the nearest thing to use as a weapon. The pan was large and heavy, but as a rudimentary shield, would work well enough. She held it outwards, as if it were her sword.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nomura laughed at her attempt to look threatening, and with a flick of her wrists, the kitchen knives were revealed amongst her fingers. Almost mockingly, she tutted, head tilted to the side. “What a shame, that when your Father wakes up, you won’t be able to see him,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Swift as a gnome runs away, the knives were sent streaming at Claire’s face, and the Trollhunter yelped as they bounced off the pan/shield. The changeling, unperturbed, stalked closer but was knocked back a few steps by the frying pan flung at her long face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Taking advantage of the confusion and pain Claire ran past her, reaching out with her right leg to send a hooked kick at her abdomen and using it to push herself further ahead. Without looking back, she heard the sound of Nomura’s annoyed growl.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The stairs were only a few paces ahead - she needed to get to Enrique to protect hi-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The breath was knocked out from her lungs, something harsh and tight wrapped around her ankle to chuck her across the room, back smashing into a framed picture of her family. Glass shattered, falling on the carpet around her as she groaned. When Claire lifted her head, Nomura was already directly in front of her, butcher’s knife already in a swing at her neck.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It impaled the wall above her head, and never had Claire been more thankful for the reflexes Blinky had honed in her. Her bony fist connected with the changeling’s face, right on her stony cheekbone, sending saliva spitting from her mouth and in Claire’s face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Green eyes flared in anger, but barely had any time to react, the Trollhunter’s foot already shoved in her nose. Bracing her hands on the floor, Claire pushed herself to her feet and leaped up the stairs, racing up the flights like her life depended on it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Which for clarification, it did.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sparing a glance behind herself, Claire saw a glimpse of Nomura climbing up the stairs on all four limbs, arms and feet pumping up and down jarringly, like a huge spider from a horror film.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With a burst of energy, she jumped over the banister railing, and sprinted along the dark hallway towards Enrique’s room. Deep breaths echoed in her ears, matched with the pounding of her feet on the carpet. Each muscle in her body felt as though it was on fire, but she couldn’t stop now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The door to Enrique’s room slammed behind her, and she locked it immediately, sliding the bolt into place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Silence came from the other end, Nomura evidently stopped her chase. Was she hiding? Waiting for Claire to reemerge?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Amulet was cold in her hands, as if tired out from the fight with Draal earlier, and the incantation from her mouth was weak and raspy, though it thankfully did the job of summoning armour. Silver light illuminated the room as Claire leaned over the cot edge to look at Enrique, finding her little brother to be sound asleep. She breathed a sigh of relief.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>How could he sleep through all the noise their fight had made?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the whistling started, Claire thought she might have been imagining it. The tune was high and stringy, jumping from note to note gracefully yet also with a tense volume, as if at any moment it might swell into a clash of stomping notes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She recognised it ;</span>
  <em>
    <span> Hall of the Mountain King</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, not only did Nomura want to kill Claire, she also wanted to sufficiently freak her out beforehand  as well. Scuttling accompanied the whistling sparsely, the changeling scurrying along the corridor until the shadows of her feet emerged beneath the door. A green glow intensified them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Drawing Daylight, Claire held the sword aloft, squaring her shoulders and placing herself in front of Enrique.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The whistling stopped abruptly, so suddenly that it made Claire doubt she’d even heard it in the first place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A deep, sardonic chuckle came from outside the door, sending shivers up Claire’s spine. Clawed fingers reached into the room through the crack at the bottom, slashing the carpet. “You can’t hide forever, little Trollhunter - You’ll pay for what you’ve done to Little Gynt,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Little Gynt? Who the heck was that? The blue troll she’d cut in the museum?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire didn’t have much time to dwell on it further, the door blown open by a huge force abruptly, causing her to stagger backwards and almost knock over Enrique’s cot. When she looked at the door, expecting to have a pink hand wrapped around her throat, there was nothing there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Trollish roars, grunts, growls and howls were coming from downstairs though. The very foundations of the house were shaking, in fact,-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claire recognised that deep and guttural snarl. Only a little while ago it had been roared into her face.  What was Draal doing in her house?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sparing one glance at the groggily blinking Enrique, Claire exited the room, and ran down the stairs to see what was going on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A track of huge muddy footprints stained the cream carpet, leading to the ajar back door, flashes of blue, green, and pink leaping about over the grass, too fast to spot each individual movement. The clashing of swords on stone rang about the air, growing louder when Claire ran outside and watched the chaos.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nomura was a good ten feet in the air, leaping towards a roaring Draal. The spikes of his elbow spurs protected him, creating sparks of orange against her crossed khopesh blades. Grunting, he was pushed backwards by her, and without his arms in a good position to defend himself, she managed to slice down forcefully, cutting his forearm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he yelped in pain, Nomura  stood back and tried to catch her breath, the changeling panting. She looked beyond shocked, green slitted eyes wide open.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Draal…”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She breathed out wistfully, before coming back to her senses and using Claire’s garden fence to vault herself into the woods behind the house gracefully. With one last longing glance at the blue troll, she sprinted away, disappearing between the expanse of trees.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Still cradling his arm, Draal hissed and began shouting, “You will not hurt the Trollhunter, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nomura!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The way her name was spat out, she and Draal couldn’t have been that good of friends. The huge troll was huffing and puffing, each breath tinged with a rough growl. Blazing eyes swivelled on Claire, who was leaning in the doorway, shivering in the armour.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please say you’re not here to kill me…” She whined, hoping her day couldn’t possibly get any worse.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He snorted patronisingly, regarding her in annoyance. “No,</span>
  <em>
    <span> Fleshbag.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I am not here to kill you.” Barging past, he pushed her to the side with a rocky arm and invited himself in, tracking even more muddy footprints. Sniffing the air, Draal surveyed the interior of Claire’s house, all the furniture upturned and chucked around.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Javier snored away in the kitchen, out of sight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“H-hey! What’re you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am surveying your cave,” He rapped a fist on the wall, shaking it, and frowned. “Surely you can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>live in these flimsy unprotected buildings?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Upstairs, a loud, high pitched wail rang out, Enrique evidently awake.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draal got into a fighting stance, horns lowered and feet spread apart. “What is that infernal noise, Trollhunter?” He roared, demanding an answer from Claire as the crying got louder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just stay there!” She told him, dismissing the armour, staring at him with steely, harsh eyes. He regarded her with both interest and suspicion before she ran upstairs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When she returned, there was a crying bundle in her arms, some small fleshy creature sniffling and crying. Without her armour, the thing was cradled to her chest, grabbing a fistful of her hoodie intensely.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draal pointed at Enrique, vaguely wary of the infant, keeping his distance. “What. Is</span>
  <em>
    <span> that,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Trollhunter?” He asked her, regarding Claire’s baby brother as if he were a dangerous weapon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Evidently he’d never met a </span>
  <em>
    <span>baby</span>
  </em>
  <span> fleshbag before.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>: I changed the fight scene with Draal and Claire up a little, because Jim defo should have broken a shitton of bones in the original sequence.</p>
<p>Also I’m so sorry for the lack of Jlaire and Steli!!! They will return!<br/>I just realised that for anyone reading this for the changeling Jim/Trollhunter Claire content, that you’ve basically read 80K words and Claire still doesn’t even know he’s a changeling. Damn I feel sorry for u guys, its gonna be a long ass while until they even kiss.</p>
<p>I love reading what people think and answering questions so PLEASE leave a comment because they are what motivate me into writing!!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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